365 Days
by Ava Nova
Summary: A little look into the life of Glee Club every day of the new year, January 1st to December 31st. Rating varies for each chapter.
1. January 1, Resolutions

_**A/N: Yes, I have taken on the huge task of writing something, long or short, oneshot or drabble, for each day of 2010. There will be days where I don't have computer access, so I'll have to update them later, but I WILL write one for every day of the year.**_

_**Of course, I'm doing another one for CATS as well, so this is a major task to take on considering how I have to write two things each day AND uphold my other stories. Hopefully this will test my limits as a writer!**_

_**Also, for my first Glee fic, over 100 people read it and no one reviewed. Not even a flame. Was it really that bad?**_

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**January 1****st****, 2010 - Resolutions**

_A new year's resolution…_

It was dark, the moon hovering above the sky and bathing it in a gentle, pale light as each person present waited for that moment. Couple's clung to each other lovingly, friends grouped together in drunk, giggling masses and Rachel Berry stood off to the side, a glass of alcohol she couldn't remember the name of in her hand and a thoughtful look on her face.

What could she say? Normally her resolutions were pointless or common, like not eating chocolate or putting a golden star next to her name every time she signed it (although she would never admit it, everyone had somehow drilled it into her head that _that _particular metaphor was not important).

The clock was ticking down quickly, the voices at the party quieting down to a hush as they waited for the classic fireworks to be set off, visible all over Lima. They were a tradition, something to take their mind off the fact that some of them would be seeing these fireworks for the rest of their lives.

Rachel's mind raced, trying to quickly think of something, something meaningful to bring about this new decade, this new year. As the crowd counted down in loud, obnoxious voices, Rachel stood still, raising her glass to the fireworks as she finally decided what her New Year's resolution would be.

_This year, I'm going to be the friend Glee club deserves, not the diva Glee club detests._

"Happy New Year's." She whispered, finally taking a sip from her long neglected glass and dancing over to the group of Glee kids celebrating at a nearby table.

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**A/N: If you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them!**


	2. January 2, Decade

_**A/N: I got reviews! Like, Ohmahgawd! :p Thanks for all the ideas, I'll work them in where I feel inspiration.**_

_**Also, on the fifth I leave to go camping, no internet, no computer, no nothing. (Oh noes!) I will write while I'm there, so sit tight, and when I get back I'll update for all the days I missed. Enjoy!**_

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_**January 2**__**nd**__**, 2010 – Decade**_

The start of a new decade never meant much to the high school society of Lima. But, despite common belief, Brittany saw great importance in it.

As each decade passed she could look back and say she had lived a full 10 years, and everything that had happened in those ten years she had witnessed, cried or cheered for, or Googled meticulously to understand (including the word meticulously itself, which she had been using in conversation the past few days to show off her new smarts). But who could understand? Brittany was a person who didn't see the world as others did. She didn't understand a lot of things, and so she _couldn't _look for a deeper meaning. She saw things as they appeared, and sometimes that was a part of her own intelligence.

Take this for example – January 2nd, the day after New Year's where you sleep in extra late to make up for lost time on the first day of the year. Most people don't think it's important. It's just a day.

But Brittany wakes up early, takes a step outside and sees a world with no one watering lawns, no cars driving by and no construction on the new house across the street. It's like the world is abandoned, where she can mow the lawn for that spare ten dollars and dance about all she liked, and everyone was too busy living in dreamland to interrupt her. It was one of the few days of true freedom, not because of a lack of control, but because no one was there to try and force her into submission. It was like living in her own world.

A part of her mourned the loss of that world when she returns to it, midday rolling about as people decide to finally wake. But she knows that it's only a matter of time before that day rolls around again, and she can have that rare glimpse of freedom where there is nobody to judge her.

Brittany was a person who didn't see the world as others did. She knew that being smart didn't make you understand, but being accepting of things as they are makes you understand.

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**A/N: It's very difficult to convey what I was talking about here – I couldn't think of a good person to go with the subject with, so I just chose randomly and prayed it turned out. As usual, this was made up on the spot. Review, let me know what you think and what or who you want to see next.**


	3. January 3, Bump

_**A/N: Another midnight update :p Enjoy you guys! (... or girls :p)**_

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_**January 3**__**nd**__**, 2010 – Bump**_

It was barely a bump. I small bump that fit into her palm, but still felt so unnatural that it simply shouldn't be so comforting to her in a way.

A baby bump.

She was getting used to hiding it under baggy clothing, but the camisole she was wearing to bed did little to hide it. Her hand cupped it gently, holding it in a motherly way she never imagined herself to have. She could picture herself laying here in a few months, holding her child in her arms and not her hand, smiling and singing to it and loving it like a mother should.

She was an unorthodox mother, a baby mama as she had heard too many times before. She had been ridiculed and accepted, kicked out and taken in, put down and pulled back up. Her whole life had turned around, and a part of her was saying it was for the best. It was difficult to admit, but she felt somewhere inside her that this little bump was the best thing to ever happen to her.

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**A/N: It's short, I know. I've only actually seen four full episodes of Glee before the remote was stolen, so I'm hoping she was on character. If you don't know who it is, you're an idiot. :p**


	4. January 4, Accidentally In Love

_**A/N: I promised some Puck/Quinn goodness, so here it is! I wrote this while listening to 'Accidentally In Love' by Counting Crows, so I'm sure you get today's subject. Enjoy!**_

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_**January 4**__**th**__**, 2010 – Accidentally In Love**_

She made him want to sing. He'd never admit it, it would damage his totally badass rep, but she had this strange affect on him.

He never really realized it until he started taking full interest in his little girl. At first he blamed it on paternal instinct or some shit like that, but he soon realized it wasn't just the baby he wanted to take care of. She meant a lot to him, and he didn't want to lose her. He couldn't think for the life of him when he had started feeling this way, but he assures himself it was completely accidental.

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She made her want to scream, dance, cry and laugh at the same time. This snowball of emotions continued to roll every time she saw him, growing bigger and bigger until she feared she wouldn't be able to contain it and combust into a blubbering emotional mess. She was doing okay so far, though.

He cared, she knew, and he was persistent in his care. A part of her doubted the reasoning behind this, whether he really cared or whether he just wanted to make a good impression and stop her thoughts of him as a 'Lima loser'. She wanted to smile every time he made the smallest caring gesture, to scream every time he tried to get back into her life, and just fall into a crying mess of stress at random intervals in her day. His care was something she wasn't quite used to, especially from him. But she sort of liked it. And that was completely accidental.

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**A/N: All of them are very short… still, I hope you enjoy them! Review, tell me what you think!**


	5. January 5, Needle

_**A/N: Random Word Generators are the bomb. Going to see Sherlock Holmes today, leaving for a camping trip tomorrow! … Anyway, enjoy the new chapter!**_

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_**January 5**__**th**__**, 2010 – Needle**_

Some secrets were meant to be kept. There were certain people you could trust your deepest secrets with, and they would take them to the grave. They were good people to be friends with. There were people who promised they wouldn't tell, then the info just bubbles over and soon everyone knows. You don't want to be friend with these people.

And right in between these types of people is a one person category. Brittany was someone you didn't tell your secrets to not because she maliciously spread them all over the school, but because she couldn't tell the difference between secrets and non-secrets.

Mike figured this out the hard way.

When they were 10 years old they both miraculously ended up in the waiting room at the local hospital, sleeves pulled up and chatting as they waited for their needles. Mike fidgeted, talking robotically as he tried to take his mind off it.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asked. Looking out the door Mike saw no one nearby, and so leaned close.

"I… I'm afraid of needles." Brittany just stared. "I can't stand the thought of having a sharp piece of metal break through my skin. It always hurts." Brittany looked at him. He felt red heat flood his cheeks as he turned away, feeling stupid for spilling his worst fears to a girl. Slowly she shrugged, leaning forward and turning to face him.

"It's okay to be afraid. I'm scared of lots of things, but people usually stare at me and call me silly."

"Oh? What are you afraid of?"

The spent the next ten minutes discussing fears, some making him pat her back sympathetically, some making him hide a snicker and some making them laugh together ( "seriously, when I was 5 I was afraid of the mailbox. I thought there was a monster in there!"). Neither of them noticed that they had both gotten the flu injection and were quickly getting walked out by their respective mothers.

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And whenever Mike came over to Brittany's house, she would hide all her mother's sewing needles, just in case.

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**A/N: Lookie that, it's other Asian! (You asked for it, you know who you are!) Review, if you please! Also, I might be able to update tomorrow, though I won't have internet for about a week after that. Sorry!  
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	6. January 6, Target

_**A/N: Some of that Tartie I promised. **__**Leaving in about an hour, have a wonderful week and I'll update when I get back!**_

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_**January 6**__**th**__**, 2010 – Target**_

Glee Club was a walking target for every type of high school torture. From the icy cold of a colored slushie sliding down your face to the slanderous gossip roaming the halls through hushed words, there wasn't a single thing Glee hadn't faced.

Well, not really.

Artie was a popular victim for the football team, being in a wheelchair and all, and when they were looking for some fun they would usually take his chair, or lock him in a port-a-potty or something else juvenile and pointless. He was used to little things like that. He flinched every time a jock even looked at him, but it was a familiar feeling.

However after a particularly drunken celebration of a football game they decided they wanted to see just how far Artie's paralysis went.

He was rolling down the street, a bag of groceries in his lap, humming to himself as he returned home. His mom had been working hard on getting the house clean (there had been a mess with the blender, and the ceiling was a difficult place to get to) so he had offered to replace the wasted ingredients. It never took long.

However he was quickly stopped, wheels pushing against his gloved hands as he jerked forward in his seat, groceries spilling across the pavement.

"Hey, Wheels." One of the footballers sneered, alcohol on his breath. Looking about Artie saw several footballers, but Finn, Matt and Mike weren't present. Not even Puck was present.

He was royally screwed.

"Isn't it a little early in the day to be drinking?"

"No!" The ringleader said angrily, before calming down. "We just wanted to ask you about your legs." Artie shifted nervously. The ringleader poked him in the leg. "You can't feel nothing?" He asked.

"N-no." Artie stuttered. The ringleader turned to his friends, before tossing him out of his chair with one simple flick. Artie slipped onto the concrete, his hands unharmed by the fall but a crack resounding from one of his legs as the ringleaders foot slammed down on it.

"How about that?" He sneered. Artie felt nothing, but sat frozen anyway. The crack could not be mistaken, his legs' awkward angle meaning only one thing. It was broken.

"Hey!" A voice called.

"Shit!" One of the tall teens in the small crowd of jocks called before they scattered drunkenly, an angry Tina running to Artie's aid. She slowly helped pull him back into his chair.

"What happened?" She asked.

"I think they broke my leg." He replied, touching it. He couldn't feel anything. Tina moved to where the spilled groceries lay, abandoning the fresh foods and repacking the packaged goods into the plastic bag before handing it to him. She pulled out her phone and had a short conversation with Artie's mother, offering to wait there so she could come and take her son to the hospital. As Tina slid her phone back into the pocket of her worn jeans, Artie spoke up.

"Tee?"

"Y-Yeah Artie?"

"Thanks."

She was the first to sign his cast.

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**A/N: Yep, wheelchair guy got a cast. Pointless? Maybe. Interesting? Hell ya.**


	7. January 7, Rainbow

_**A/N: (Wrote this before I left, so you can read this while I write up the next one :p) One of my friends came to a party wearing this shirt, so I had to write something about it. Enjoy!**_

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_**January 7**__**th**__**, 2010 – Rainbow**_

Kurt only owned two tee shirts.

One was plain white, slightly grey now from frequent use in the garage. He tended to sleep in it too, seeing as it was easy to get on and off, and waking in the morning and doing his normal routine meant he didn't have to worry about getting any of his various creams or make-up on his clothing.

The other he had no problem wearing in public. He'll admit, he was very fashionable, but every now and again it's good to take a break and just wear something loose. It was black, the writing splayed across the front in a messy rainbow. He had gotten various reactions to it – the writing and the shirt in itself, seeing as he _was _a fashionista – but his favorite was probably Mercedes' the first time he wore it. Her cheeks flooded with red as he mocked her own stupidity, and as they talked in science on Monday Tina couldn't help but ask what was so damn funny.

Pulling out her phone Mercedes showed her the photo, Mercedes looking as she normally does, Kurt with his arm around her in worn jeans and a tee shirt claiming 'You don't need this shirt to tell I'm gay.'

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**A/N: **** Best shirt ever (other than my Kurt shirt, which I wished I owned but don't. A girl can dream! :p)**


	8. January 8, Illusion

_**A/N: I've been typing like crazy to get these all up, considering I couldn't exactly type them on my hiptop (little buttons, big thumbs) so ignore the shortness of some of these. I'll try to keep the AN's to a minimum for the next few so I can write them faster. That you all for being so patient with me!**_

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_**January 8**__**th**__**, 2010 – Illusion**_

How much of my life was an illusion, a lie? How could I have been lulled into a sense of security and happiness, when my best friend was lying to me all along?

I thought we had a connection. I got along with her in other ways, aswell, but nothing beats the feeling of knowing someone else understands what you're going through, that you aren't alone, especially in high school. In Lima. But my illusionary life was all shattered today.

She was faking. Faking a disability like in was nothing. I could see the remorse on her face, but that didn't stop the hurt any more. She could just move on and be normal now, and just when life was getting a little better for me—

I guess I'll just have to live like this. Alone, looked down upon. I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up.

Maybe one day we'll be friends again. But I'll never trust her as well, I don't think. I don't even know if I'm blowing this out of proportion. Maybe I am. Maybe she deserves what I've done, that is if she feels about me as I did about her.

It still aches to know that I had abandoned her. But I don't think I could get her back.

I can't turn back to my illusion now.

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_**Poor Artie. I'll make it up to him, promise.**_


	9. January 9, Song

_**A/N: Following the trend, I threw some Moulin Rouge in. I'm with Rachel on this one – I didn't know it was an Elton John song until I Googled it. Silly me :p Anyway, the song is 'Your Song'. I also want to point out this is a little AU, as Finn still thinks the baby is his. Enjoy!**_

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_**January 9**__**th**__**, 2010 – Song**_

"_My gift is my song!"_ Finn sand loudly, Ewan McGregor from Moulin Rouge popping into my head quickly. It was one of my favorite musicals, and I was happy to see it done, even if it was a male song. Quite frankly, I didn't even know the song was by Elton John until I Googled it out of curiosity. Now, as I listen to it, it does sound quite similar to his other works.

Finn sang it so well, but not to me. He continues to steal glances as Quinn, who is stroking her very pregnant belly quietly and smiling. I wanted to stab her eyes out with a small, blunt object, but knew it would do little to help my reputation, and a criminal record wouldn't help me get into showbusiness. I simply pursed my lips tightly, turning and focusing only on Finn, who was still belting out the words to Your Song.

"_How wonderful life is, now you're in the world."_ Scattered clapping filled the room, and I primly joined in, snapping my hands together a few quick times before turning and offering a new idea to Mr. Schuester.

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Little Abby… Quinns baby. Not a few hours ago I had despised both Quinn and her unborn child, but seeing the small bundle in Quinn's arms made me smile a watery smile, unshed tears in my eyes. She was adorable, her small hand curling around Quinn's thumb as she looked down on 'her little angel'.

"Ber – Rachel." Quinn spoke, causing my gaze to rise up to her face in surprise. She had dark bags under her eyes, as though she had been awake some time. Her voice drawled as she spoke. "I know I look like crap right now, and I really need some sleep. Finn was meant to be back from getting lunch, but until then, could you…" She nervously raised the small child up slightly, insinuating a care for it. My breath hitched in my throat. Quinn and I never got along, not until she got pregnant, really, but if this was as close as I would get to Finn I would just have to live as the cooky aunt.

I gently took Abby from Quinn, cooing at her and rocking her slightly.

"Little Abby…" I breathed. I looked back up at Quinn. "I'll take her next door so you can rest. It's an empty room." She nodded, nestling into her bed. I turned and quietly walked away, opening the pale door that separated the two rooms and walking through. I tried to close the door as quietly as possible, but it snapped shut quickly. Abby let out a short wail, taking gulping breaths and crying. I rocked her nervously, looking about the empty room.

"Shh, no, it's okay… quiet! Nothing's wrong…" I huffed, this baby was intolerable, just like her mother. In a moment of panicked I just did whatever came to mind.

"_My gift is my song!"_ I sang, effectively making Abby stop, still letting out quieter wails and sniffing sadly. I decided the best way to get her to sleep again was a lullaby.

"_And this one's for you._

_And you can tell everybody that this is your song,_

_It may be quite simple but, now that it's done_

_I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind,_

_That I put down in words_

_How wonderful life is, now you're in the world."_ She began to breath in a peaceful, slow rhythm, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"She's got a set of lungs, doesn't she?" I whipped around quickly, seeing Finn, and a tray of food, standing in the doorway.

"Oh.. yes." I breathed, nervous and out of air. "I feel that, in a few years and with the proper training she could be a great performer, maybe even –"

"Rachel, she's not even a week old. At least wait until she can talk." Finn muttered. He had taken on that tired, frustrated voice Mr. Schuester used when he was tired of me. I have a feeling Finn was just tired, however. Of all of this.

"Um… I'll take care of Abigail if you want to.. you know… rest?" I questioned. I could feel red seeping into my cheeks, making them burn. Finn nodded to me, smiling lazily.

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

As he left I looked back down to the bundle in my arms, brown eyes staring up at me curiously.

"Hello, Abby." I whispered, letting her wrap her tiny hand around my finger. "Who wants to be a star one day?"

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_**I love babies, but they scare me a little. Eep! Review, if you please!**_


	10. January 10, Hiding

_**A/N: Hiding was a rather difficult one to do, and though it's short, I think I did okay. Enjoy!**_

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_**January 10**__**th**__**, 2010 – Hiding**_

Tina is a hider – she fears the world so much all she wants to do is hide.

But the world doesn't work that way – she is forced outside, to work, to school, to make friends and learn about everything she can. It frightens her, but she has to learn to live with it. It is life, isn't it?

So she stutters. She lies easily and learns that something simple like that gives her freedom from the scary things in life. Her stutter tires her sometimes at first, and her lips become swollen and sore from overuse (even in saying such short sentences, and talking so little). It was nice to be able to hide. It was comforting. It made her feel she could be herself, and yet no one would notice.

She made friends. Artie, Mercedes, Kurt. And later, from Glee, something she was quite frightened to do hidden behind blue hair and fingerless gloves, Brittany, Mike, Rachel, Finn. All of Glee. But she was still frightened, still stuttering. Because, even though the world didn't look so scary with so many friends by her side, she feared what those friends would be like if she became normal again.

Because Glee kids needs quirks. And her stutter was hers. It opened doors for her, into worlds she never imagined. And she didn't want to risk losing it.

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_**I'd like to know what you think, so review! Tell me what I did wrong, and help me write longer chapters! **___


	11. January 11, Journey

_**A/N: Another short one for a difficult topic. Enjoy it anyway.**_

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_**January 11**__**th**__**, 2010 – Journey**_

I don't know much about Journey. I'm more a Beyoncé girl myself. But I'll admit, the Glee-anderthal did pretty well picking a song. It had a good beat to it, a good meaning. Something you could learn from, a song that had me humming for the rest of the week (though my history teacher doesn't seem to happy 'bout that).

It could be, our Glee theme song. 'Don't Stop Believing'.

Mr. Schue was right. Glee is about being yourself, even if the whole world wants you to be someone else.

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_**One of the only quotes I can remember fairly well :p**_


	12. January 12, Umbrella

_**A/N: I'm not really happy with this, I could have done so much better, but I rushed it. Sorry!**_

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_**January 12**__**th**__**, 2010 – Umbrella**_

It was a surprisingly bright, clear day. Artie rolled into the school as usual, eyes on the lookout for toes or anything else he could run over, as well as any jocks that may be menacingly holding a half melted slushie, waiting for him. He was surprisingly late, having been held up by an alarm clock that didn't wake him (the batteries had been removed and placed at the bottom of the washing basket, most likely by his giggling little sister). He was cheery and hopeful of a good day, but a single lapse of concentration as he rounded a corner led to his face being covered in slush, his eyes guarded slightly by his now soaked glasses. A second splash of freezing beverage slid down the back on his neck and down his back, causing him to shiver. He ripped off his glasses as his faceless attackers walked away, wiping them quickly with his sleeve and squinting. The blurry shapes of Kurt, Mercedes and Tina were in front of him, asking if he was okay, along with a quip from Kurt about how he needed a new wardrobe anyway. They were also covered in multicolored slushie, most likely a group attack. Artie sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Come on, I'll get some water and we'll clean off in the choir room."

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"It's terrible!" Kurt moaned, dabbing at a splash of purple on his light blue shirt. "Don't they know how much this outfit cost? And the shoes! Just think of my poor shoes…"

"A-a-at least we can l-laugh about it." Tina offered, trying to stay positive. She was primarily soaked on her right side, but not much. She had cleaned off quickly, the small washcloth back in the now colorful bucket or lukewarm water inside the circle of friends.

"I ain't laughing." Mercedes cut it, cleaning off her earrings. Kurt sighed, giving up and throwing his cloth in the bucket huffily.

"I'm getting out of this intolerant cow town the first chance I get."

"I'm with you there, man." Artie agreed. Tina nodded along. Mercedes smiled, agreeing.

"Hell yeah."

"We should totally go together. Do the whole 'Friends' thing." Kurt said, chuckling. Tina giggled along.

"I'm sorry, am I meant to get that?" Artie asked sheepishly. Kurt gaped at him.

"Shame on you!" He gasped, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. Mercedes laughed silently, ignoring them in a fake huff.

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After school the four met again. Mercedes wanted to practice a new song, hoping to show it to Mr. Schuester next Glee rehearsal.

"Come on, guys, who doesn't like a little Rihanna?" She pleaded. Artie rolled forward slightly.

"I know that there's this – uh, remake of it, with some killer guitar, so is there any way we could.. uh…" He trailed off nervously. Tina put a hand on his shoulder, nodding.

"S-seriously, the All Time Low v-v-version has a rock thing a-about it. It's c-c-cool." Tina added. Mercedes rolled her eyes, nodding. Artie happily rolled over to his guitar, playing around with it for a moment before finding the chords he needed and playing out a tune.

"_When the sun shines we'll shine together,_

_Told you I'll be here forever,_

_Said I'll always be your friend_

_Took an oath, Imma stick it out to the end._

_Now that it's raining more than ever_

_Told you we'll still have each other_

_You can stand under my umbrella_

_You can stand under my umbrella."_

This also gave Artie the brilliant idea to bring an umbrella to school the next day, saving him from several slushie facials.

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_**Ergh, didn't turn out so well. I doubt any of those guys would ever sing that song, either. Anyway, review, if you please!**_


	13. January 13, Clue

_**A/N: I've never actually seen Clueless, but I've heard that's where the 'talking-on-cell phones-whilst-walking-next-to-each-other scene came from. And if I'm wrong, just pretend it is, okay? Okay. Enjoy! (This could sort of be seen as a follow up to yesterdays :p)**_

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_**January 13**__**th**__**, 2010 – Clue**_

Their first movie night was at Mercedes' house, and after various arguments on what to watch they ended up choosing Clueless. It was enjoyed by most of them, scattered around on beanbags munching on popcorn (minus Artie, who fell asleep and woke up with popcorn shoved up his nose. Tina called Kurt out for it, who didn't talk to her until the movie ended.) They then sat awake for another two hours, playing around with the party line feature on their phones and giggling to each other from various rooms in the house on obvious sugar highs. No one left unhappy.

The next day was unfortunately a Monday, and strutting into the school as usual Kurt walked with his head held high, eyes scanning the halls with a cool gaze for anyone he considered a friend. He spotted Mercedes, her phone to her ears as she leaned against her locker. By some twist of fate his phone started to buzz in his pocket, so he quickly wiggled it out of the tight denim and snapped it open, holding it to his ear.

"Kurt Hummel."

"Hey, my main man." Kurt raised a perfectly formed brow, stepping forward and working his way through the crowd.

"Any particular reason for calling?"

"More time to talk before class. Hold on, Tina wants in." A few seconds later the crackle of another phone joining the conversation filled his ear, and a flash of blue hair by his side showed Kurt that Tina was right next to him. He rolled his eyes haughtily.

"Hey Tee."

"Hey Kurt, M. I'm h-having trouble with this S-S-Spanish stuff, d-do you get it?" She stuttered, smiling as Kurt took a sidelong glance at her.

"Sorry sweetie, I have better chance understanding jock speak than I do Spanish." Kurt announced, leading Tina over to Mercedes. They stood in a circle, just sort of staring with their phones to their ears. Kurt felt a slight buzz on his ear, and saw Artie was calling him.

"Hold on, I'm letting Artie in." A few s econds to adjust the call and—

"Hey Kurt."

"Artie, you're on party line." Mercedes announced.

"Urgh, really? Can't you do anything original?"

They hung up on him.

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_**I didn't get Kurt quite right, because I'll never be as awesome as him. I really need a beta to help me get my characters right :p**_


	14. January 14, Throw

_**A/N: Usually the subject for each day is the same, but this is the first day I've had a different subject for my two stories (the CATS one is a quote) I felt this one works okay, but it hasn't lived up to its true potential. Just a drabble.**_

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_**January 14**__**th**__**, 2010 – Throw**_

For someone who was an excellent kicker, Kurt couldn't throw to save his life. The dance he managed to incorporate in kicking couldn't be a part of throwing, leaving him with no hand-eye coordination whatsoever. He spent hours with Coach Tenaka after practice trying to throw, to pass, to do anything, but it simply didn't interest him. Each of these sessions ended in a weary dismissal from the football coach, the lights on the field were turned off and Kurt was left to walk home alone, feeling worse about himself than normal.

He practiced on the weekends, to no avail. Even on Monday he couldn't throw his half eaten apple into the trash can nearby. His ego was heavily deflated.

The next practice Kurt practiced silently, trying to throw footballs through a large hoop, failing miserably and frowning slightly. Finn jogged up slowly; puffed from the arduous training the other players and he had endured, and gave Kurt a quick pat on the shoulder.

"Can't win 'em all, man."

If only he knew.

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_**If you guys could give me quotes or story ideas, I would love you. I don't mind if you give me songs or characters you would like to see in the future either :p**_


	15. January 15, Chicago

_**A/N: I don't know exactly what inspired this. It's probably a mix of Chicago songs and the Velma/Roxie friendship that emerges not through actually liking each other, but by having gone through the same pains.**_

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_**January 15**__**th**__**, 2010 – Chicago**_

"Gone!" Rachel sobbed, knees brought to her chest and her heart-wrenching cries filled the small McKinley High Auditorium. It had been so long since she had last graced it's stage, having graduated quite a time ago and moved away. "It's all gone…"

They didn't want her. All her life she had imagined Broadway, but they couldn't have a pregnant girl starring, could they?

And how would she support herself? She already had to leave her apartment, her gorgeous, perfect apartment, and move back in with her dads. They promised to take care of her until she could get a job. But it was all over now. She would have to take care of this little baby, for 18 years. And then, when she was finally free, they wouldn't want her. Perfect. Marvellous.

Her life was ruined.

"Berry, suck it up. You're the strongest person I know, you'll pull through. Maybe you can get your parents to take care of the little guy --"

"Girl." Rachel interrupted the blonde ex-Cheerio, choking on her words. She wiped her eyes.

"Right. Girl. Well, maybe it'll all turn out alright." Quinn offered, holding her own small child. She set the two year old down lightly, watching her crawl a reasonable distance away from the edge of the stage before turning back to her friend in need. Rachel was looking out to the empty audience, pain so evident in her eyes it made Quinn wanted to cry. She had been through this pain, and Rachel knew she was the only one who could help. But Rachel had plans for her life. Quinn didn't have any real plans. It must have hurt to know your whole life was wasted because of one mistake.

"_It's good," _Rachel sang suddenly, startling Quinn. She tilted her head higher, her tears slowly drying on her cheeks.

"_Isn't it grand,_

_Isn't it great,_

_Isn't it swell, isn't it fun, isn't it,_

_Nowadays?_

_There's men, everywhere,_

_Jazz, everywhere_

_Booze everywhere_

_Life everywhere, joy, everywhere_

_Nowadays." _Quinn remembered this song. One of the few occasions the Glee club had coerced her into watching a musical they pulled out Chicago, and she had since secretly bought the whole album. She took a quiet breath, slowly joining in with Rachel. She was there to help, after all, and it figured that this would be Rachel's way of dealing.

"_You can like the life you're living,_

_You can live the life you like._

_You can even marry Harry, but mess around with Ike,_

_And that's good, isn't it grand,_

_Isn't it great, isn't it swell,_

_Isn't it fun, isn't it?_

_But nothing stays."_ The music they could hear in their heads disappeared, leaving only the pleased giggling of Quinn's little Abby.

"Ice cream and romantic comedies at my place?" Quinn offered. Rachel turned to her, smiling a watery smile and giving her friend a gentle one armed hug, picking herself up and breathing a slow, organized rhythm as they walked away from the past.


	16. January 16, Call of Duty

_**A/N: I promised my brother I'd throw some Call of Duty in there, which I'm partial to over Halo (which seems to be constantly referred to in Glee fanfic). This is just one of those annoying stories with only dialogue, to save time. This is between Matt and Mike (even though it's probably not even like their characters). Enjoy anyway!**_

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_**January 16**__**th**__**, 2010 – Call Of Duty**_

"Boat or plane?"

"Boats. Easier to escape if something goes wrong."

"What, and jump into the ocean?"

"Yeah!"

A sigh. A shuffle.

"Okay, never mind then dude. Call of Duty or Halo?"

"Call of Duty, for sure. Better weapons, better levels, awesome characters. Believable."

"Ghost and Gaz were awesome, but you can't deny that alien killin' totally owns."

"I played one level of Halo 3 and I got bored."

"That's cause it doesn't get good till after that. Patience, Matthew."

"You sound like my mom."

"I screwed you're mom."

A slap. A whine, angry mumbles.

"Sorry. Crossed a line."

"Damn right."

"…"

"…"

"Xbox?"

"You're on."


	17. January 17, Unity

_**A/N: I've been away from the computer a lot recently, which is no excuse for me being so far behind on the updates. I'm working on catching up and working all my suggestions into the chapters. Your patience is admired, readers.**_

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_**January 17**__**th**__**, 2010 – Unity**_

"Try saying 'I was born on a pirate ship' while sticking your tongue out." Santana commanded the group, raising collective brows.

"I wath born on a pile of – shit no!" Puck growled, Santana giggling as the group caught on quickly. Rachel rolled her eyes as the others laughed, mumbling something about 'immature waste of rehearsal time' which Brittany and Finn slowly tried to work it out.

"Wait, I don't get it." Brittany said, brows furrowed. Santana leaned over, whispering to her what you said if you did as she had earlier asked. Brittany's mouth formed a small 'o'. "Really? That's gross. I thought you were born in the hospital." Santana leaned away and rolled her eyes, smirking at her cheerio friend. Mike laughed so hard his blue slushie went down the wrong pipe, somehow managing to spray out his nose and onto the back off Matt's head. He contorted into an image of horror, a hand hovering over the back of his head contemplating whether he _really _wanted to touch that.

"Hey, we can be blue buddies!" Tina spouted, twisting a strand of blue hair around her finger. Matt smiled sheepishly, taking the tissue Rachel had handed him and wiping off the back his head before swiftly throwing the tissue in Mike's face.

"This is nice," Rachel said, beaming, "to be able to just talk like civilized human beings as opposed to how non-chivalrous some of us acted in the past."

"…what?" Finn asked as a blank stare formed on his face. Kurt smirked, leaning towards the female diva.

"Small words, sweetie."

"Oh. Um… it's nice to just be able to chat, rather than try to murder each other." Rachel cut down, slowly trying to pick out smaller words. Finn nodded in understanding, leaning back in his chair.

"You are the only person I know who has to try so hard to use short words." Puck said, opening his mouth to continue when the door opened loudly, Mr. Schuester entering the room with a great grin on his face.

"Okay, I have a great new set for us to start working on, but for now I just want to find out a bit about what you think about Glee and your fellow gleemates." He grinned, turning to face each of the teens in turn.

"Wait, are we going to have to take a test?" Brittany asked.

"No Brittany. What I do want you to do is come up with a collection of words that explains what Glee is, or what it means to you." Mr. Schue explained, dropping a large piece of blank paper on a table with a variety of large pens. "Get to work." He quickly crossed the room, talking to the various band members about new songs as the gleeks slowly raised to their feet, some dragging chair along with them to start on what they were assigned.

As they handed it to their teacher 20 minutes later he carefully examined the various words. 'Ug-Glee' was written in black texta, crossed out several times in a lighter blue in an attempt to hide it. Other words of various sizes and colors scattered the page, from things like 'freedom' to 'special' and 'opportunity'. Smack bang in the middle, however, surrounded by pictures and colors, was a simple word that they had all obviously agreed on.

Unity.


	18. January 18, Cheer

_**A/N: Trying to update as many as I can now. I just thought of an awesome idea – I figured that if I got too far behind people could send in little things they've written to post on days I really don't want to write. Now I realize that it would totally defeat the point of this being a challenge for me. Cheer me on anyway!**_

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_**January 18**__**th**__**, 2010 – Cheer**_

They were meant to bring cheer. That's what they were called after all – 'Cheerios'. They would do flips and turns and other things that took excruciating practice, and the moment they got off that field they became the classic high school cheerleaders – snobby, bitchy, heartless hussies.

Or at least the rest of them did.

Brittany liked to believe her, Santana and Quinn were different. After this whole pregnancy thing started Quinn has been a little more toned down, more like a normal nice person. Santana she wasn't so sure of. She really did seem to fit the Cheerio role so perfectly, but Brittany knew she secretly loved Glee more than any other part of school, even if she did only join to be a spy for Sue. And Brittany herself? She understood she wasn't very smart, and in trying to avoid making stupid mistakes she would just follow whatever her two friends were doing. It's what she had always done.

They were each, in their own way, glad the Glee had come along. Quinn had found a place where friends were true, also helping her learn that her two Cheerio friends were a lot nicer than they had always seemed. Santana had found something she truly enjoyed, willing to sacrifice a small bit of her popularity for it. And Brittany had found friends who liked her even though she wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. It was nice.

Turns out Glee Club brings a lot more cheer than the Cheerleaders do. Weird.


	19. January 19, Shop

_**A/N: Another excellent idea – I've always wanted to do an FAQ on a story, and so I think I might do one every now and again for this one. Send it any questions, and I'll either do one at the end of each month, or one at each quarter of the year (you know, March, June, September, December). I'm also being forced into a trip to my grandma's, but I might be able to sneak a laptop over and update for you. Enjoy!**_

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_**January 19**__**th**__**, 2010 – Shop**_

I love to shop.

I know a lot of people do, though not too many guys in Lima spend a day at the mall buying Alexander McQueen. I couldn't probably shop for my country at the Olympic Games.

I think I got it from my mom, who would take me out every Saturday and scour the bargain bins, finding the most adorable clothes for me and herself, before taking me to an ice cream store for some low-fat ice cream. It was sort of nice, though now I know it was her way of making up for the lack of father-son moments me and dad never had. We just didn't get a long that well.

And then she was gone, and I couldn't go to the mall for months. Every time I even heard about it I would break into tears. Then again at that point I broke out into tears over everything. It was sad.

Dad tried to make up for the loss, trying to do the things she would do. But he couldn't really understand. He tried, but he didn't know what it was like. She was my God given solace, and I needed her.

And it wasn't until _years _later that I realized 'hey, this isn't the fashion-wise son she had raised. I need to keep on living, so everyone can see how much of a great mother she was.' For the first time I could step back into a store without crying, unendingly proud of myself for not caring that these other people saw me shopping for such outrageous clothing.

Really, saying I love to shop is just my way of secretly saying I still love my mother.


	20. January 20, Jerk

_**A/N: Yes, I'm taking forever to get these up. Please forgive me?**_

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_**January 20**__**th**__**, 2010 – Jerk**_

_I am Rachel Berry, and I am sure of a lot of things._

_I am sure that the Earth is round and rotates around the sun. I am sure of my own star potential and talent. I am sure of my intelligence and my wit at times._

_I am also sure that Noah Puckerman is the biggest jerk to pollute God's Green Earth._

_I may be biased in some ways, yes. Being the bunt of many of his practical jokes and sniggering words I feel that I needn't even go near the football playing Neanderthal to point out the flaws in his being. In the simplest terms, it's his attitude, his outlook on life, and his disastrous hairstyle. Is it naught but a desperate cry for attention?_

_He is oafish and moronic, consistently being, for lack of a better word, a jerk. I have tried to avoid violent of otherwise unfavorable methods of rehabilitation, but I have failed rather miserably. I feel Mr. Puckerman is a lost cause, and we, at least for the time being, must simply learn to live with him._

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"Rachel…" The teacher sighed, lowering the paper to see the eagerly awaiting face of Rachel Berry, one of the students in his new class. He lifted his head, scratching his head in an attempt to avoid rubbing his temples and sighing too loudly. "It's… very well written," He said carefully, trying to pick his words. He had heard about the resident Lima Diva, and didn't want to upset her too badly after their first assessment task. "I asked for a short look at someone else in the class. Really, I expected things like hobbies and family members, not a psychological evaluation. I just wanted you to write an essay."

"And I've done just that." Rachel put in. "I wrote what I found about him, and Noah is simply a jerk, and all of these factors are common of his current behavior. It's correct sir." Again the teacher scratched his forehead, adding the neat paper to the pile.

"Okay, Rachel. I'll write you a pass for Maths."


	21. January 21, Soldier

_**A/N: 6 more until I'm up to date!**_

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_**January 21st**__**, 2010 – Soldier**_

Why did they have to wear these weird robes? It was in every school movie ever, yeah, but that doesn't make it any less weird.

"I feel like a monk." I grumbled, ripping off the black cloth and throwing it onto a nearby table. Finn was nearby, almost asleep in the chair, while Matt and Mike pulled fabrics off the wall and threw them everywhere. Why did we have to get them fitted anyway?

"Hey Puck!" Mike yelled, running at me and wrapping me in a random fabric. "How 'bout you wear a gown made out of this. I looked down, struggling to get my arms out of the purple, gauzy material.

"I look like a gay monk." He looked a bit deflated, but laughed anyway. "Admit it, it would have been cool."

"No, it would have been gay. Duh." I said, ripping through some of the fabric loudly in my attempt to get it off. The seamstress looked up, not happy. I pointed to Mike, who started opening and closing his mouth like an Asian, retarded fish. I smirked at him.

"You're going to pay for that." She scowled, and for a second I thought she was going to grab his ear and drag him home to mommy. I chuckled at the thought of him 'owing' his way home, this little old lady totally owning him. He sulked, pulling out his credit card and going to pay for the ripped fabric.

"I got my letter of acceptance today. I'm actually going to college." Finn chuckled. I stared at him.

"The let _you_ into _college?"_ Finn gave me that confused face, then an attempted glare. I needed to smooth things over, fast. "I mean, why would you want to go back to school? It's almost over, bro!"

"I dunno, I guess I just needed something to do." He replied, leaning back in his chair. "What are you going to do when you graduate?"

Shit, I hadn't thought of that. Everything was all fine and awesome till now.

I couldn't do much – I had barely scraped a passing grade. College was out of the question, you couldn't drag me into one unless I was in a cage. Which is a pretty damn funny image.

"Erh…." I groaned, thinking. Finn rolled his eyes. "Dude, you gotta do something. Join the army! You like guns, right?"

"I like _these _guns." I pointed out, flexing my muscles. Finn rolled his eyes again. I dropped my arms, slumping into a chair next to him (and nodding at a _fine _lady who was _totally _checking me out).

"Maybe I will." I said. "Who knows, maybe I'll get some sweet army chicks."

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And just when you feel you've made it out safe, they drag you right back in.

Why do they even have these reunion things? They're so cliché, it hurts to know I'm part of it.

Shit, I know what cliché means. Damn you Berry!

"Noah?" A voice breathes, and I turn to face the voice. I stand in my chair out of habit, my hat coming off my head and resting under my arm. I had shown up in uniform, just to rub it in their faces that I actually did something with my life, and boy did they look surprised. Even Berry, who was staring at me with her eyes bugging out of her head. It was kind of weird, seeing as she hadn't aged a day other than the smallest of wrinkles around her eyes.

"10 years… no phone call?" She was almost crying, and I couldn't figure out why.

"What, did you miss me?" I smirked, trying to slacken out my posture. Stupid army making me look like a nerd. Even made me shave off the 'hawk!

"We would have liked to hear from you, No-Puck." She cleared. I chuckled out loud. No one had called me Puck for years. It had sort of just drained out off me. It was nice to hear it again. "Come on." I was snapped back to reality as she grabbed my hand, dragging me out of the main room and into the hall- no wait, down the hall, and into the choir room.

"Okay, what's going on?"

"Noah Puckermann!" Oh shit.

Glee Club? Out of all the places she could have taken me (and what she could have been doing with me in those places) she dragged me to visit out old Glee club?

Mr. Schuester was starting to go grey, which I so kindly pointed out. Hummel was still… Hummel, and after the years Cohen-Chang had grown some fashion sense into wheels over there. Finn was just as tall and stupid as ever, and Quinn was introducing her little girl (who wasn't so little anymore) to everyone, which was just adorable. Santana had actually put on a couple pounds, while Brittany was really annoying in how happy she was she was a Special Ed teacher. Matt and Mike had opened some sort of dance studio, while Mercedes was slowly becoming a famous singer. The images I had of them changed from the quirky group of high school kids to the quirky group of adults. Most of them had kept in touch, so everyone immediately swarmed on me.

"Dude, where have you been?"

"We thought you'd been eaten or something!"

"What happened to your Mohawk?"

"Love the outfit, Puck."

"Dude, it was only a suggestion. I didn't think you'd actually go and do it!"

It was kind of nice to be back, because now I could actually be seen with these losers.

"Who wants to hear about some weird army shit?"


	22. January 22, Mock

_**A/N: Getting there…. What's the maximum numbers of chapters on anyway? How awesome would it be if I got to 365 chapters :p I was trying to think of something to write for Mock, and all I could think of was the Mock Turtle. So, here ya go.**_

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_**January 22**__**nd**__**, 2010 – Mock**_

"_Will you walk a little faster, said a whiting to a snail…"_ Rachel sang quietly, fiddling about the choir room while she waited for Glee club to arrive. She walked around the piano several times, brushing her hands over the polished black and the ivory keys, scanning across the room for anything to do while she waited – rather impatiently – for her friends to arrive.

"_There's a tortoise close behind us, and he's treating on my tail…"_ she continued under her breath, sitting in a chair and folding her hands in her lap. The door opened suddenly, her head snapping upwards to catch the sight of Puck, frozen at the sight of Rachel sitting in the choir room. She turned suddenly, eager to walk back out.

"Noah, wait!" Rachel called, jumping up, strutting over the him and pulling him back inside. "It would be nice not to be left here alone for a while." She said, dragging him further into the room. He pulled his arm away roughly. Rachel sat in her chair again, taking her previous position.

"Why are you here so early anyway? Usually you are one of the last here. Not saying I'm not glad to see you, it's good to see you're showing a little more incentive—" Puck made a noise in the back of his throat that clearly said 'shut up Berry, I don't care' and began shuffling through his bag, trying to find something to occupy his mind.

"What were you singing anyway?" He blurted out, curiosity taking over him. Rachel looked slightly shocked, steadily regaining her composure.

"It was the Lobster Quadrille." Puck stared at her blankly. "From Alice In Wonderland?" His gaze turned from blank to more of a 'you're kidding' stare. "Never mind, I shouldn't have expected the likes of you to know of it."

The sat in silence for several minutes, the steady clicking of the clock and the random shuffles of Puck's bag the only sounds. Rachel struggled to keep her breathing as quiet as possible, eyes trained on the floor.

"Do you… think you could sing it again?"

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_**It's short, it's unfinished looking. Sorry. Trying to get up to date.**_


	23. January 23, Forgotten

_**A/N: I'm focusing on this for the next few days so I can get up to date :p Thanks for your patience, again! (I actually wrote this song. If you really want, I'll try to sing it for you and upload it to Youtube do you know the tune. I also can't play guitar :p) Enjoy!**_

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_**January 23**__**rd**__**, 2010 – Forgotten**_

I've learnt a lot of things through Glee club, but the most difficult of these was how to write a song.

My time since Stuttergate (as everyone had so aptly named it) had been split between my homework, Glee, Rachel's singing lessons and Puck's guitar lessons (granted I had to pay him to teach me, but somehow the money always ended up back in my bag somehow). I'm sitting in the choir room now, strumming a rather tasteless tune while I try to think of a song. It seems that no matter what I can try I can only think of Stuttergate, Glee and... him.

My laptop is humming almost-silently beside me, reminding me that every sound I make is being recorded. A pen is between my teeth, the end slowly becoming covered in teeth marks as I chew it. I hit an even uglier note, reaching up with one hand and pulling my pen from my mouth, throwing it across the room with an angry huff. I bring my hands back to the guitar, placing them on the strings with a tight grip as I take a deep breath, strum, and sing.

"_Take a breath,_

_Throw yourself into the water_

_Catch your death,_

_If you stay in the cold any longer,_

_Hands, colorful hands,_

_Pull you out into sunshine and laughter_

_But what I would give_

_To be forgotten again."_

I was on autopilot, singing like I meant it, but still confused as to where any of this was coming from, and how I had learnt to write songs so fast. Something about it seemed unreal, but so perfect.

"_Feet on sand,_

_Push yourself over the sandbank,_

_Pray to God,_

_That there must be some way you could go back,_

_Eyes, beautiful eyes,_

_Make you feel things you were sure had long passed,_

_But what I would give,_

_To be forgotten again._

_I want life, I want love,_

_Have it sent from above,_

_But can I see it all from my shell,_

_I was wrong I was right,_

_Give it all to the night,_

_Sound the bugle, ring the bell._

_Take a breath,_

_Throw yourself under the water,_

_One more step,_

_And it's happily ever after,_

_souls, heartbroken souls,_

_float past the roofs and the rafters,_

_but what I would give_

_to feel anything again."_

I dropped my guitar to the ground with a noisy clang of notes, slammed my laptop shut, and let out all my pent up feeling in a few relieved tears.


	24. January 24, Shot

_**A/N: Just a little drabble thing.**_

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_**January 24**__**th**__**, 2010 – Shot**_

You don't need to be a genius to know you only have one shot at life. One chance to get what you want before it's all over. You need to work hard to get to where you want to be, to live life to the fullest.

I love little Abby, I really do. She's my little girl, my angel and my world. But…

I always imagine what life might have been like if I had just been smart enough to avoid the situation that caused her to be conceived.

What if, in another world, another time, I had never had little Abby, and I was free to live a different life, the one that had always been planned for me?

Thinking about it now, there's no way it would be as wonderful as this one is getting.


	25. January 25, Sing It Loud

_**A/N: A sort of smallish thing to keep you guys going. I'll start putting up some more good stuff soon.**_

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_**January 25**__**th**__**, 2010 – Sing It Loud**_

"You need to sing a little bit louder, Tina, we can't hear you."

I'm so nervous all the time these days. I can't figure out why, but even now on the stage I'm trying my hardest to sing as loud as I can and it barely comes out a whisper. Some of the others don't look happy at me at all – we've been held back an extra twenty minutes already because I can't seem to make my voice any louder.

"I'll try." I say, and the song starts again from somewhere near where we left off.

"_Cause I see your True Colors, shining through_

_I see your True colors, and that's why--" _I thought it was only guys' voices that crack? That was painful too. My hand flies up to my throat and I rub it, coughing slightly. My throat feels dry and painful.

"Tina how could you let your vocal chords get in such horrible condition?" Rachel reprimands me, hands on her hips. I roll my eyes.

"Can't you see she's sick?" Artie says, rolling up from the side of the stage he had been on. Mr Schuester sighed, rubbing his temples and picking up his bag.

"Okay, Tina, you rest that voice and we'll meet again next time." He said, and everyone grumbled as they left the auditorium. I slowly dragged my stool across and off the stage, feeling pretty bad about myself.

"Um… hey?" A voice asked. I turned, stumbling over my chair and landing flat on my ass. Mike's expression moved from nerves and confusion to shock and what I took to be an 'oh-shit-sorry' look. He jogged over, grabbing my hand and pulling me up. I wiped the dust off the back of my jeans and placed a hand over my throbbing elbow, hissing at the pain. I could practically see the bruise about to form.

"Sorry, sorry sorry!" Mike shouted over and over, hopping from foot to foot and looking pretty girly. I chuckled at him, grabbing his shoulder.

"It's okay. What's up?" I said. Ew, my voice did sound worse. I sounded like a chain smoker.

"What's that, your sexy voice?" Mike joked, and I punched him in the arm. His mouth formed an 'ouch' as he rubbed his arm and gave me an overdramatic pout. I rolled my eyes at him again, holding up my fist and threatening to hit him again if he didn't get on with it.

"Well, anyway, I know that you can't, like, sing or whatever, so I figured I'd come over and offer dance for a change." I obviously looked pretty confused – for someone who lied about something for so long I can't really hide my emotions.

"Well, yeah, I didn't think you'd want to that much, but you don't really need a voice for it, and… yeah…"

"I'd like to try!" I beamed. I don't think I've ever seen his face light up so fast.

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It may surprise you, but I was actually pretty good at dancing. Mind you I needed a lot of work, but Mike was an awesome teacher and was ready to teach me over and over. My voice got better pretty fast, and Mike was really nervous I would just ditch again. I made a special point to be dramatically late before ringing his doorbell and scaring the hell out of him.

Soon enough we stopped only dancing and started talking, watching movies and whatnot. That girl in Step Up 2 seriously can dance! Cable looks a hell of a lot like Mike too. We ended up practicing that freaky move at the end of the final dance, you know that one where the guy is pulling Andy's chest up and down without touching it, looking a little bit perverted? It's painful if you muck it up. It's also pretty awkward to try to explain, as you probably already know.

It's pretty awesome to have a new hobby, as well as a new friend to confide in. Things with Artie are still pretty awkward, so when I don't feel like having girl talk 24/7 I head over to Mike's and burn the floor. He's a total weirdo, but that funny, likeable weirdo you want to have around (as opposed to the other type of weirdo, like Jacob Ben-Israel).

Mike doesn't say a lot of really smart things, but sometimes something weird-but-wise comes out of his mouth that seriously makes you wonder where this guy came from.

_Dancing, it's like singing with your feet; You have to sing it loud, sing it strong. At the same time it isn't. Because singing it quiet is just as good, and sometimes better, if you can do it right._

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_**Whenever I get a sore throat my friends call it my sexy voice, because I hate being called sexy (cause, huhduh, I'm not!). Hope you found it somewhat enjoyable.**_


	26. January 26, Hey Jude

_**A/N: Little songfic for today. Sorry it doesn't make a lot of sense, I just sort of went with it. Threw in some Beatles for the sake of it.**_

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_**January 26**__**th**__**, 2010 – Hey Jude**_

The empty choir room, the way he liked it best. Having the rest of Glee club around, staring at him like this whole Baby thing was his fault… it was too much. Not that they would ever know he felt that way..

"_Hey Jude," _He sang to himself, elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor, then around the room. It was all too much. Too many words, too many actions. He just wanted it all to stop, to go back to when everything was easier.

"_Don't make it bad, _

_Take a sad song, and make it better._

_Remember to let her into your heart, and then you can start_

_To make it better."_

Rachel was still a pain. When wasn't she? Running straight to Finn after this whole thing happened. That's what she probably did, anyway. Nobody tells Puck anything anymore. He's the disgrace. Rachel had no problem letting him know that, anyway.

When had he stopped calling her Berry?

"_Hey Jude,_

_Don't be afraid,_

_You were made to go out and get her._

_The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin_

_To make it better."_

He still had the girls around the school and the cougars. The ones who threw themselves at him. But he didn't want that, for once in his life. He wanted to have someone to confide in, to help him through this. He was so tired of the cold loneliness they had inflicted on him.

"_Anytime you feel the pain, Hey Jude, refrain_

_Don't carry the world upon your shoulders._

_For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool_

_By making his world a little colder."_

There weren't many people left who would listen at this point. Football team was out – so was Finn, Quinn, and almost anyone in Glee. Who did that leave?

"_Hey Jude,_

_Don't let me down,_

_You have found her now go and get her,_

_Remember to let her into your heart, and then you can start_

_To make it better."_

Rachel's house was definitely closest.


	27. January 27, Vampire

_**A/N: I'm Twilight bashing here. I don't see anyone in Glee actually enjoying Twilight (some of them never even reading it) so I'm just throwing in some good reasons why they don't like it for the sake of a drabble. Enjoy.**_

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_**January 27**__**th**__**, 2010 – Vampire**_

"Wha--, what is this?"

"What is what, Puck?"

"This girl I was trying to get with totally blew me off, saying that she was waiting on some Edward Cullen to come save her."

Kurt laughed. Loudly.

"What?"

"Edward Cullen is a fictional teenage vampire that is apparently perfect in every way, as well as the object of many teenage girls' affections."

"Erh… okay, Rachel." Mercedes said slowly. "He's in this book called Twilight, which was so bad I burnt my copy."

"I put mine through the garbage disposal." Santana pointed out, before continuing to examine her nails as she had being doing before.

"So what's wrong with it?" Finn asked, dragging his seat around to face the group. Artie shot him a 'Good Lord, why did you say that?' look right before Kurt, Rachel and Mercedes flew into a rant.

"Well, first off the main character has no personality, no described appearance, and no hobbies or interests rather than Edward. This means that creepy teenage girls can put themselves in her place." Kurt started.

"And then it goes on about how Edward hates her at first, and then suddenly likes her. The description of him is so long that it almost makes up for the lack of description on Bella." ("The main character." Tina pointed out to a confused Finn.) "The term 'Edward's perfect face' was used _at least_ 40 times in the first book alone."

"And they sparkle. Can you believe that? It's like the author ran over decent vampire stories with an eighteen-wheeler, and then threw pixie dust on it. It's clichéd, it makes no sense, and it just sucks, man!" Mercedes finished, Rachel and Kurt giving approving nods. Finn sat silently.

"So… I shouldn't read it then?"


	28. January 28, Wanderer

_**A/N: Tiny, TINY drabble this time.**_

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_**January 28**__**th**__**, 2010 – Wanderer**_

Out of all the things I could have done with my life, I chose nothing.

I knew I wanted to get out of Lima. And I did. I bought out an old car, the sturdiest I could find, and just drove out. I've been doing odd jobs since then – cleaning pools, mowing lawns, at one point I was even a waiter, but my 'hawk put most of them off – and that's been keeping me alive. I guess you could call me a wanderer. I never stay in the same town too long. I don't want to settle down and become a nobody.

Turns out I was heading to LA all along. I never noticed, I never tried, it just sort of happened. And now I'm here, standing outside the simple white apartment building, staring at the little slip of white paper Berry had given to each of the Glee clubbers before she took off. It was in clear, black print that this was the place.

I have this weird, wise feeling that even though I had spent so long as a wanderer, trying to find the place I belong, it had always been there waiting for me.


	29. January 29, Bro's Before Ho's

_**A/N: Teeny Tiny thing to help me catch up. If anyone has any ideas to inspire me PLEASE let me know! Finn's POV, OC based on my friend's cousin :p**_

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_**January 29**__**th**__**, 2010 – Bro's Before Ho's**_

Puck dated this girl once – only for a little while, and everyone knew it was for the sex, because once that ran dry he dumped her – but I really hated her.

Picture this blonde headed, pink bubble-gum popping girl who only own miniskirts and tight shirts, with a high, grating voice and a huge ego.

That's Courtney.

She kept flirting with me every time I saw her – even if she was with Puck at a party. It was kind of creepy, because she had this thing where she would bat her eyes really fast, and I kept thinking she had something in her eye – whatever.

Anyway, one time at this jock party he took her, but totally ditched her. And she started getting all up on me, and Puck walks back in. He was so pissed with me. I tried to explain to him that I REALLY hated his girl, but he just wanted to beat the living hell out of me.

So like any good man, I pulled the 'bro's before ho's' card.

Two days later everything's back to normal, no Courtney in sight.


	30. January 30, Why

_**A/N: January's almost over! Here's a little drabble for you. I kept telling myself to pull out my book and type this, and I only just bothered to finish it.**_

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_**January 30**__**th**__**, 2010 – Why**_

At first, life confused me.

I always wanted to know, I _had _to know everything; why do cat's meow? Why so trees grow upwards? Why does the world go round? Why, why, why?

My parents tried to teach me all they could, to let me learn about the world at a young age. They never taught me about death though. I learnt about that on my own.

After Mom was gone my questions changed, ones I wasn't sure I should have asked. Why do only girls wear makeup? Why can't boys wear dresses? Why is it so bad to want sensible heels?

Dad got really awkward with me at that stage. He had no women to consult on these things anymore. So he just started saying 'because'.

"Why am I not allowed singing Brittney Spears dad?"

"Because."

"Why do I have to give something to a girl on Valentines?"

"Because."

"Can I go bowling?!"

"Because."

It got infuriating. I guess that was just his way of dealing with his world falling down around him.

These days, I try to confuse life.

Everyone wants to know what's going on in my head. Why did he do that? Why is he wearing that? Why, why, why?

It's better this way. I still ask questions about the world – everyone does – but I've learnt very young to just accept the impending 'because'.


	31. January 31, Mike

_**A/N: Last day of January! I'm starting February with a set of drabbles looking into the lives of the Glee clubbers, so the first 4 to 5 days of Feb will be up sooner than usual! (This is the first one, because I kept changing how I wanted this one to go.)**_

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_**January 31**__**st**__**, 2010 – Mike**_

I've felt a lot of things in high school. Happiness, sadness, anxiety, anger – but there was nothing quite like the plain, blinding fear.

I was practically screaming down the halls, pushing off other peoples' shoulders to give myself an extra boost. I wasn't the best runner on the football team – to think of it, I didn't even know what I was on the football team – but I was fast enough to escape most of the guys chasing me down the school halls. I skidded into the choir room, slamming the door and locking it before moving away from the door.

The cold air rushing through my mouth made my throat burn, and all I could do was wait until I was breathing normally for the stinging pain to leave. I rested in a plastic chair nearby, taking glances at the door every now and again to check for anyone trying to get in. Fear was still in my heart.

I could hear them fiddling with the handle. I stood, crossing the room away from the door. Their once-friendly faces peered through the glass, apparently unable to see me. My heart rate rose again. How could I have been friends with these guys one day, enemies the next?

"One I started, head leaned back against the walls, eyes closed.

"Two." I was told a story by my grandpa once. He was in a war, and in that war he saw a lot of things he was afraid of. But he would just count to five; one, two, three, four, five. And then the fear was gone. You only give it five seconds.

"Three." A thump against the door.

"Four." Yells.

"Five." I opened my eyes and pushed myself off from the wall. I strode across the room – they sneered as I came into their vision – coolly made my way to the window, opened it, and climbed out, flipping them the finger as I escaped.

You only ever let the fear have five seconds.


	32. February 1, Quinn

_**A/N: February! FEBRUARY! Second month of the year! It's so good to know I've gotten this far. Cheer me on peeps! (Tiny drabble this time, more than a month late o.0)**_

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_**February 1**__**st**__**, 2010 – Quinn (What I See, What I Hear)**_

The gentle pattering of small feet down the hall. The quiet sound of afternoon cartoons from the lounge. A clatter from the kitchen, a light, girlish giggle.

The smell of fresh apple pie moving from the oven to the windowsill, the way she had always imagined it being. Her mothers' perfume, and delicate lavender air freshener. Toned white carpets and safety locked drawers.

This isn't how she imagined life at 18.


	33. February 2, Artie

_**A/N: Nothing much to say… trying to get all of February done today!**_

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_**February 2**__**nd**__**, 2010 – Artie**_

Two strong lines pressed into the carpet. The squeak of spinning wheels. Gentle whispers from the next room, soft hands helping him around the house. The smell of roast dinner and gravy, friendly chatter echoing the dining room. School, work, guitar lessons. The struggle into bed. The struggle out of bed the next morning, knowing all the fake smiles are his fault.

This isn't how it should be.


	34. February 3, Puck

_**February 3**__**rd**__**, 2010 – Puck**_

Poster covered walls to block out the stains. Music blaring loudly from his old stereo, helping him ignore the screaming down the hall. Deadbolt on the door to stop his annoying sister getting in. A window that opens silently in the night to help him escape.

There is no escape.


	35. February 4, Tina

_**February 4**__**th**__**, 2010 – Tina**_

Awkward conversations over lean cuisine – mother doesn't have time to cook. Hair tied up tightly, color tucked neatly behind the black. A beret over it, just in case. Gloves stuffed into a shoebox in her closet. Clothing nothing less than presentable. Pretending, games. _Happy family, _they called it. Yes mother, I think psychology is an excellent life choice. Yes, father, I'll follow your footsteps like the word of God. Of course I'll marry a nice doctor, mother.

She always plays pretend.


	36. Febraury 5, Rachel

_**February 5**__**th**__**, 2010 – Rachel**_

She strong. Smart. She can sing her song and ignore the nasty comments, the anonymous threats and the cold, blue ice to the face. Because she knows, one hundred percent, she'll be out of here one day, and proving them wrong on stages and television screens around the country – no, the world. But for now, it's her soundproof walls, her locked door and her singing that guards the world from what she's really doing.

Crying.


	37. February 6, Finn

_**February 6**__**th**__**, 2010 – Finn**_

He remembers the day he had to move his drumset to his room. Mom didn't want to see it anymore. Maybe it was a gift from his father, he couldn't remember, all he knew was mom didn't like it. It was dusty now, unused. Clothing, along with all other possessions, were scattered about the bedroom floor, the concept of actually seeing the graying carpet a rare thing. Cell phone, blinking and vibrating on his bedside table. He wouldn't answer. They all wanted to get in his head, to figure out what had him _thinking _for once.

He just wanted to get away for a while.


	38. February 7, Kurt

_**February 7**__**th**__**, 2010 – Kurt**_

His father didn't understand. He didn't like fixing cars, or watching football games. And that was _unusual_, it made it hard to bond with his father when he was _unusual._ And he made up for it by giving him money, buying his love. His overstuffed closet tells the world that. Sometimes he dreams of being _usual_, playing football and fixing cars and dating girls. But he can't. He's too _unusual._

That was just his father's way of saying _freak._


	39. February 8, Mercedes

_**February 8**__**th**__**, 2010 – Mercedes**_

I hear clattering plates downstairs. My speakers aren't loud enough to drown it out. My mother calling after someone. The door slams, car tires squeal loudly, quieter, quieter… gone. She pours herself a glass of wine. I just plan tomorrows' outfit. My little sister goes to bed on her own. Mom's too sad to put a happy face on, even for her. She grows up, squandering in self pity. I just text Kurt about Glee songs. Mom stumbles up the stairs – she got drunk – hitting walls and sobbing between her drunken giggles.

And I just sit here, trying to drown it all out.


	40. February 9, Santana

_**February 9**__**th**__**, 2010 – Santana**_

Her mother loves Mexican food. They aren't Mexican, but the smell of the food fills their home. It's hard for her to keep her form with all this food, but she manages. She's glad they have a dog to feed. Her room is small, like a prison cell. The walls are half painted, the bed frameless, a mattress on the floor. The frame would be repaired soon. She could finish the walls. Then maybe she could have people over again, if they could fit.

Maybe.


	41. February 10, Brittany

_**February 10**__**th**__**, 2010 – Brittany**_

Her house is really colorful. It made her happy, to see the greens and blues and purples, and her parents just let her paint walls all over the house. They had a lot of animals too – dogs, cats, lizards, fish, frogs – because Brittany could talk to them and know that she was the smarter creature in the exchange. Her parents liked their daughter to feel superior. Feel smart.

Because the moment she left her colorful wonderland, she was the dumb blonde cheerleader again.


	42. February 11, Matt

_**February 11**__**th**__**, 2010 – Matt**_

He doesn't like people to know about his house. About his life, his family. Everyone asks him questions he won't answer. Because there are no set rules, no smells or sights or feelings that stay forever. One day it's Chinese, the next it's KFC. One day it's a large, soft bed, the next it's a cheap pine bunkbed his feet stick out of. One day it's a large green backyard, the next it's a dustbowl square of land.

Nothing stays the same when you're a foster kid.


	43. February 12, Emma

_**February 12**__**th**__**, 2010 – Emma**_

You don't need a lot of words to understand what her life is like. You don't even need to know her well, her life is so organized, so clean, so obvious and predictable that no matter how hard she may try she will always be this one word that own her whole world.

Clean.


	44. February 13, Rachel In Wonderland

_**A/N: I can't think of what to do for Will or Sue… so I'm moving on and doing a weird little AU (WAY AU)that I've had in my head for a while. Set in a different time, but enjoy anyway. Yes, I stole the plot from Tim Burton's Alice In Wonderland, but who cares? It's fanfiction.**_

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_**February 13**__**th**__**, 2010 – Rachel In Wonderland**_

"Where is your corset?" Rachel's mother hissed, poking her young daughter in the stomach. The coach jolted along the road, the young brunette silent. "Rachel, I'm talking to you."

"I'm not wearing it." She mumbled finally. Her mother ignored her, lifting the bottom of Rachel's blue dress up to her knees.

"And no stockings!" She gasped.

"I don't need them." Rachel said, staring out the window at the passing trees.

"But you aren't properly dressed!"

"Who's to say what's proper?" Rachel shot quickly. "What if it was decided that wearing a codfish on your head was proper, would you wear it?" Her mother stayed silent. Rachel turned back to the window, indignant.

"To me, a corset is like a codfish."

"Hush up." Her mother ordered.

"Father would have laughed." Rachel said, watching her mother from the corner of her eye. The elder lady turned away, obviously upset. "I'm sorry." The young brunette apologized. "I didn't mean it. I haven't been sleeping well."

"That dream again?" Her mother asked. Rachel nodded.

"Don't people usually have different dreams? With me, it's always the same. Shouldn't they be different?"

Her mother took a pause. "I don't know." She answered finally.

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"You're late." Lady Fabray scolded as Rachel and her mother approached. Rachel trudged after her mother with a slight scowl. "Never mind. Rachel, Jacob is waiting to dance with you."With a frown, Rachel walked down the garden steps towards the dance floor. Lady Fabray followed after her. While Lord Fabray spoke with her mother, Rachel found Jacob, finding herself dragged into a quadrille.

"Jacob, don't you ever get tired of the quadrille?" She questioned. He barely glanced at her, head held high.

"Nonsense. I find it quite invigorating." He replied. Looking about, Rachel tried to entertain herself, lest she fall asleep on the dancefloor. She giggled suddenly, Jacob looking down at her.

"Do I amuse you?" He asked. She shook her head.

"I just had the strangest vision of all the women in trousers and vests and the men in dresses."

"You should keep this visions to yourself." He scoffed. "When in doubt, remain silent." Rachel looked away, frowning. She missed the quick gesture to Jacob from Lady Fabray as he twirled her about to face him.

"You shall meet me under the gazebo in exactly 10 minutes." And he walked away. Confused, Rachel walked off the dancefloor, towards the grassy gardens. Suddenly, two girls stopped her – Santana and Brittany, two near-nobles who had been best friends for some time.

"We have a secret to tell you." Santana grinned, near identical to Brittany.

"Well if you tell me, it isn't much of a secret, is it?" She replied, exchanging glances with each other.

"Good point." Santana said.

"Well I'm curious now, tell me." Rachel commanded.

"We shant." Brittany said, grinning at her. Rachel, infuriated, stomped one foot before being practically _attacked _with an idea.

"What if I told your mother of how you swim naked in the Haversham's lake?" Their smiles faltered.

"You wouldn't." Brittany choked.

"Oh but I would, and she's right over there." Rachel said, pointing across the party to where Brittany's mother was. "Oh, and yours too, Lady Santana."

"Jacob Ben Israel is going to ask for your hand!" Santana spat.

"Oh, ruin the surprise, why don't you!" Lady Fabray scolded, brushing the two girls away and taking Rachel's arm.

"Dear, we have to talk." She said, dragging her into the garden. Pretending to listen Rachel examined the gardens.

"You want to know what my worst fear is?" Lady Fabray asked. Rachel turned to her. "The downfall of aristocracy?"

"No," She frowned, "Ugly grandchildren."

'_Figures.' _Rachel thought, turning away to scowl in disgust.

"Now with you, my grandchildren will be born absolute – _imbiciles!" _Rachel turned suddenly, shocked.

"I specifically asked for _red _roses." Lady Fabray chided, gently touching one of the many white roses on the bushes in the garden. Rachel sighed. Suddenly one of the bushes shuddered. "Did you see that?" Rachel asked. It shuddered again, and a small white blur crossed the garden and rounded a corner into the maze. "See what?"

"The rabbit!" Rachel noted.

"Don't shout!" She was scolded. "Where was I?"

"Ugly grandchildren." Rachel reminded absentmindedly, standing higher to try and look over the hedges. Lady Fabray prattled on before Rachel laid a hand delicately on her shoulder. "As interesting as this is, I really have to go." Lifting her skirts, Rachel raced into the maze, chasing after the elusive rabbit.

Near 10 minutes later she exited the maze, far from the garden party, in front of a large tree. Approaching it she looked about for the rabbit, who was nowhere in sight.

"Now where could he have go—oh!" Rachel gasped, kneeling next to the incredibly large rabbit hole before the tiniest bit of grass slipping from under her fingers and—

Blurs. Orange light and brown dirt and _was that a clock _and the cool hard surface of marble meeting her face with a sharp crack. Lifting herself up, frightened yet curious, she began her journey.

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**A/N: AND I'll continue it in later chapters, all special for you. Because to do the whole thing in one chapter is simply ridiculous. Maybe in a few chapters time. Excuse the fact I've basically stolen from the script (it was AWESOME) Wonderland WILL be different. Reviews welcome!**


	45. February 14, Alcohol

_**February 14**__**th**__**, 2010 – Alcohol**_

Of all the people he expected to find half drunk in the school hallways, Rachel was on the bottom of that list. You couldn't hear her until you saw her, slumped almost unconscious against the lockers with an unmarked bottle of liquor in her hand. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes unchanged from yesterday. Will Schuester could have dealt with a drunken Puck, or Finn, or anyone really, but the outlandishness of a drunken Rachel, _Rachel Berry, _just threw him right off.

"Rachel?" He asked, taking a tentative step closer.

Rachel looked up at him, eyes droopy. "Hello Mr. Schue." She slurred. Her empty hand smoothed her hair away from her eyes.

"Uh… what's this all about?" He questioned.

"None of your business." She snapped, taking a gulp of her drink before slumping it onto the floor again. She lifted herself slightly, so she was leaning against the lockers more than lying on the floor. Will cautiously slid next to her, leaning against the lockers.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? Is someone bullying you… more than usual?" He asked. She pouted silently. After a moment of silent staring, Rachel lifted the bottle again. Will reached forward, grasping the bottle. "I think you've had too much."

"No." She hissed, ripping her drink away from him. "Not enough." She took an aggravated sip. Sighing, Will stood, turning back the way he came to find Emma and see if she could help. Rachel continued her intoxicated rambling behind him.

"Never enough for Rachel _fucking _Berry."


	46. February 15, Initiation

_**February 15**__**th**__**, 2010 – Initiation (A.K.A The Day Puck Joined The Army)**_

"What's your name, son?" The graying officer asked, switching his cigarette to the other side of his mouth and pulling out a crisp, blank form.

"Puck."

"You're real name."

"Noah Puckermann."

"Really?" The man laughed, scribbling the name down. "Poor kid." Puck scowled down at him.

"Age?"

"Graduated last week, man. Take your guess."

"You're going to need some manners." The man grumbled, scribbling that down as well. The rest of the sheet he filled in quickly, before looking him once over.

"Your ridiculous haircut has to go." He said bluntly.

"Hey, no getting rid of my 'hawk!" Puck cried, running a hand over the neatly trimmed hair. The man laughed at him.

"Sorry, boy, those are the rules. Head down the hall and get your uniform fitted." He gestured with his hand quickly, before Puck was shoved off down the hall. He fell in line behind a scrawny kid with red hair, who turned to face him.

"That man," Puck told him, "is a brownie hound."

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"Puckermann!"

"Shit," Puck swore, turning to face the luitenant. "Yes, sir?"

"What the hell is this?" The red faced man yelled, holding up the gift Puck had left in his bed.

"It appears to be a gerbil sir." Puck drawled.

"And what exactly was this gerbil doing in my bed, private?"

"Maybe he was sleeping, sir." Luis, the red head from his first day, laughed under his breath. Luitenant glared at him.

"You'll pay for this Puckermann." He said, throwing the gerbil weakly at his chest and stalking off.

"What is with these pricks?" Puck questioned, laying back on his cot.

"Calm down, buddy, Mars is just an ass." Another soldier told him, shining his shoes for the umpteenth time that day.

"Whatever. If he gets to be an ass, so should I." He said. He spied in on a nearby poker game before finally getting bored and deciding to bitch it out.

"What happened to the days where there were hot nurses in the army?" He asked the room.

"That died with leopard print and snakeskin, dude." One of the soldiers told him from down the row.

"Wish someone had told me that when I signed up." Luis sighed, his hat covering his eyes. Puck leaned over, lifting Luis' hat slightly.

"Like you'd actually have a chance with me around." He joked.

"Shit man, how long are you stuck here?" Luis asked. Mentally counting (on his fingers) Puck leaned back and groaned angrily.

"Two years, 10 months and 14 days."


	47. February 16, Forgive And Forget

**A/N: I've returned… FROM THE GRAVE! Well, not really, but it's 3 days 'till exams and I've decided I'm OVER studying and I'm going to update a bit. YAY! I gave myself these subjects before I knew what I was writing, so it's particularly strange and half-assed. But hey, it's something, and I can come back and fix it up later! If there's any requests I haven't done yet, or any requests you have to give me, feel free to review or message them to me so I can get them done (I'm always more likely to update when I get ideas from someone else! Less work for me, hehe.)**

**Enjoy**!

_**February 16th, 2010 – Forgive & Forget**_

Usually I don't believe in forgive and forget. As poetic as it sounds it takes away from my 'diva' image, something I've become proud of in my time at McKinley. I held grudges like I held my posture – straight and perfect and never slacking. Unless, of course, they realize their fault and apologize to me, begging me to forgive them on their hands and knees as most of them should.

But something about Jesse was different. I felt compelled to forgive him for the heinous crime of singing against New Directions – however good he may be – and now we have realized what an excellent relationship we have.

Looking back on it now, it's quite frivolous how I used to fawn and fancy over Finn, when really our connection was limited to our stage chemistry and pleasing genetics. We would have never been on the same level intellectually. Jesse understands me perfectly, however. My musical knowledge only barely surpasses his own, and I find my mind is constantly active from our banter and discussions. I thought love was supposed to be harder than this, but… it has come so easily.

I should have seen earlier we would have our issues, like Romeo and Juliet split apart by their families. Montague's became Vocal Adrenaline's, Capulet's New Directions. I long to shout 'Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name!' But my reputation amongst my peers is incandescent at best and I don't want to damage it any more than necessary. We meet secretly when we must, but we know to face the spotlight, the paparazzi.

And as I said before, I don't usually believe in forgive and forget. However forgiving I have been with Jesse, I still remain ever cautious should his mysterious behavior with Vocal Adrenaline restart.


	48. February 17, 4 Minutes

**A/ N: AAAAANNNNDDDD here's another one, just for you. Gee wiz, I'm on a roll here! TWO in like, a DAY! WOOT! I also wanted to point out I'm looking for a lovely BETA READER (*winkwinknudgenudge*) and anyone who wants to help (*cough*) could please message me. I need someone to spur me on.**

**Enjoy February 17****th****!**

**February 17****th****, 2010 – 4 minutes**

Tina is actually proud of her ability to read songs. There are times Artie and her sit in one of their rooms, iPod shared between them, discussing the meanings of the songs they hear, or how you could put an image to the music (at least in Artie's director side). The Goth has always loved to solve riddles, though her parents played some part, and her new ploy is to sing songs she can relate with. It's her thing.

At the sound of the opening notes Tina could place the song as Madonna and Justin Timberlake's '4 Minutes'. She bopped along for a moment, playing with the idea of the song actually _saving the world, _Tina's eyes widened as Mercedes and Kurt, noticeable from even this far away, danced onto the court. In Cheerio's uniforms, of all things.

But she stopped, and she thought, and she knew this was their way of getting the attention the two diva's greatly deserved. This was their four minutes to shine. With Rachel taking over Glee club (and no sign of it changing) the two of them had taken an option that suited them both, and while Tina was surprised she understood. Rachel pushed away Jew-fro. looked upset to some ability, but proud of his students. Finn just looked confused.

And Tina, though a little betrayed, looked proud of them.


	49. February 18, Dream On

**A/N: And now it's 3! This is sort of like my homage to GLEEful heart and her mega-cool story Lean On Me, with is currently my secret obsession (shhh! Don't tell!) I may have gotten a few details wrong, but this is sort of how I imagined a bit of Artie's life. I DID change things around, so don't get mean if there's doing something different before the car crash or whatever.**

**Enjoy!**

_**February 18**__**th**__**, 2010 – Dream On**_

"Artie, come inside please!" For such a kind and motherly woman, Mrs. Abrams could yell _loud. _Artie, almost trained to answer the call, dropped the baseball glove from his hand near immediately and jogged towards his home, skipping up the stairs. His younger brother, Andy, whined from the front yard, sad his fellow player had left. Artie struggled with the fly wire door as it jammed on the wooden floor of the hallway – he eventually gave up, squeezing through the gap once it was just big enough to fit through and leaving it open.

The house was hot – it was a particularly hot day – and Mrs. Abrams was it the kitchen sipping an ice tea when her son approached.

"Mom?" He asked her, staring up at her impatiently.

"Dad is distracting Abby," his mother, Alicia stage whispered. "Lets go get the gift while we can." Artie grinned knowingly to his mother – his younger sister Abby had a birthday coming up, and the gift they were getting her was flown in all the way from Albuquerque. While his mother shuffled around the kitchen for her phone and keys he went back the way he came, telling Andy and shuffling him into the back seat of the four-wheel drive before hopping into the front seat himself.

As his mother started the car the radio turned on, the familiar song of 'Safety Dance' blaring from the speakers. Being a family classic the three Abrams started belting out the lyrics, dancing stupidly in their seats as they drove off to pick up Abby's gift. They sang a good majority of the way, at least until the CD took a pause to restart.

"So, Artie," Mrs. Abrams started in a tone that said 'I'm in Super Mom future mode', "You're going to be a dancer?" Artie made a 'pfft' noise, shaking his head.

"No, I'm going to be a baseball player. The best of all time. I'll play in the MLB and you and dad and Andy and Abby can come and watch me. I'll be great." Mrs. Abrams chuckled under her breath. Her eldest son's enthusiasm never seemed to rest.

"Can I play baseball too?" Andy questioned from the backseat. He was air drumming to 'Livin' On A Prayer' at the same time. His mother smiled at him from through the rear view mirror. "Sure, I don't see why not."

That wasn't the only thing Mrs. Abrams didn't see.

Artie didn't remember the crash as it was, only the feeling of cool road on his cheek. The car had hit them on his side, flipping it 270 degrees and smashing his window. His seatbelt was the only thing stopping him from falling onto his door, now resting, twisted and gagged, on the ground. His body was covered in pins and needles – all but his legs – and his mouth had a trickle of blood running down his lips. His glasses no longer rested on his face. They were probably among the shattered remains of the car window. The sounds of Bon Jovi's voice came distorted from the radio, but Artie couldn't hear his mother or brother.

"Mom? Andy?" He asked. No response. Hyperventilating slightly he grabbed the seatbelt clasp, wrestling with it until he dropped, pain rushing through his spine. He poked his legs feebly as he tried to stand, his eyes widening more as he realized they simply wouldn't move.

"Mom!" He yelled again hoarsely, resting on the metal for what felt like hours before hands reached down above him, like the hands of angels, taking him into the ambulance parked nearby.

Andy wasn't hurt at all – a bump on the head, but perfectly fine. Alicia had a scrape on her arm, one she insisted on taking care of herself. Artie was her main worry. Quickly she looked him over as they carried him to the ambulance, his eyes locked on hers.

"I can't feel my legs, mom!" He yelled to her. Dragging her younger son by the arm she approached him, talking and calming the jet-haired victim as they hooked him up to a heart rate monitor. "Am I going to be okay?"

"You'll be fine sweetie." Alicia choked. "And you'll play baseball, remember?" Her tears started flowing long before Artie's did. She knew before he did.

He wasn't going to be a dancer, either.


	50. February 19, Test

**A/N: Just a little dialogue chapter between our favorite honorary girl and ditsy blonde. Presumably sometime during Kurt's manly stage. Enjoy!**

_**Febraury 19**__**th**__**, 2010 – Test**_

"Hey. _Hey._"

"Brittany?"

"What's the first question?"

"Britt, this is a test. I'm not helping you cheat."

"_Please?_ I don't understand any of this."

"Britt!"

"I can't fail Spanish again, Kurt."

"You two, voices down!"

"Yes, ."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"… Okay, Britt, Pass it over."

"Thank you so much, Kurt."

"The first question just wants you to say good morning, Britt. It's even written on your hand."

"Woah, really? I didn't think it would be up there in the top corner…"

"What?"

"You know, up there? With the little line?"

"Britt…"

"Yeah?"

"all you have to do…."

"Yeah?"

"is…"

"_Yeah?"_

"_Write you're name!"_

"_Kurt Hummel!"_


	51. February 20, MarySue

**A/N: Good morning sunshine, the world says hello! Another chapter, another day. And this is just a little thing to hopefully explain that **_**no-one**_** likes the Mary-Sues, not even their crushes**. **Pretty lazy writing style, but I'm sick so NYEH!**

**Enjoy!**

_**February 20**__**th**__**, 2010 – Mary-Sue**_

Talk started from the moment the new girl walked through the door.

"God, look at those clothes! She dresses worse than the fag."

"Oh My God, she just totally blew off the Cheerios!"

"Since when was she better than us?"

"You ain't in New York anymore, sweetie."

And then again, after homeroom.

"What kind of name is Wysteria?"

"Do you always talk like the world revolves around you?"

"She's such a try-hard."

"She tried to talk to me like she actually knew me. I'm Noah fucking Puckermann, not the welcome committee."

"Isn't she related to one of those gleeks? She has the same last name…"

"Trust me, we aren't related. It's either total irony or some sort of joke."

Stepping into the Glee room after lunch, even the group of singers couldn't stop the gossip pouring from their mouths.

"She _already_ has detention – tried to stand up to Coach Sylvester."

"Retard."

"_Brittany, don't say that_! Just because she's seriously confused about where she stands…"

"_Please_, she tried to out diva Berry. She's a moron, first class."

"Personally I feel her attempts to 'out-diva' are not important compared to her _heinous _belief she's a better singer than me. She's partially flawed _at best."_

"Look at that fashion faux pas. She looks like a rodeo clown with those boots on."

"She looks like she's going to eat me."

It takes only one day for everyone to turn against her like bad milk.

"Retard alert! Keep away!"

"Don't go near her, Prudence. She'll start a 'woe-is-me' speech and she'll never stop."

"She's impossible to talk to. She won't shut up long enough to get a word in. It's like yelling at the TV during a football game."

"I'm so over her singing. She thinks she's God's Gift to Glee, but she's more of a Plain Jane wallflower."

And by the end of the week, she snapped.

"GOD DAMNIT! YOU'RE MEANT TO FALL TO YOUR KNEES AND FREAKING PRAISE ME! I am a special, delicate flower who needs love and attention, and none of it is going right! I HAD A PLAN! I would arrive, cause a stir, meet my true love, make Glee cool AND end up homecoming queen! BUT NO, YOU'RE ALL TOO DAMN SELFISH! I'M GOING BACK TO OKLAHOMA!"

And she goes. They all celebrate cheerfully.

"New record! Only one week!"

"God, they get worse every time."

"Another one bites the dust!"

"How long till the next one moves in? A week?"

"Just enjoy the freedom while we have it."


	52. February 21, Rachel's Letter

**A/N: Start of a new little chain of stories to help me finish off February. You'll pick it up soon enough. Enjoy!**

_**February 21**__**st**__**, 2010 – Rachel's Letter**_

Dear Mr. Schuester,

I want to thank you for the excellent high school experience given to me through your guiding hand. You provided us with what Spanish we now know (which will prove very useful for me to have successful conversation with my future fans who speak that language), and on top of that you gave us Glee. It doesn't take a genius to tell which one was more important to us. You taught us some excellent singing and dancing skills, although in my part it was more of a practice than a learning situation, and you gave us the home-away-from-home I feel we may have all needed. We all had something in common, and that was what gave us a New Direction (that was a play on words, in case you didn't get it.).

We are eternally grateful for what you've done for us. Me especially, I think. You taught me the basic social skills I seem to lack; something to bond with my peers over, something vital to the way my life has formed. You gave me friends. We all love you, like a second father. Or, in my case, third.

My first Broadway show is in November. I'll send two tickets for you and Ms Pillsbury. Or should I say Mrs. Schuester?

Yours Sincerely,

Rachel Berry *


	53. February 22, Finn's Letter

**A/N: Another short little 'letter' for you. Enjoy!**

_**February 22**__**nd**__**, 2010 – Finn's Letter**_

Mr. Schue,

I haven't written a letter before, so I'm sort of winging this one.

Rachel came up with this idea that we should all write you a letter, something you can read to remember us by. Your first Glee club. Well, no, the first Glee club you taught, but…

I asked Rachel. She said to say thank you.

So, thanks.

Before Glee I always sort of felt a bit unsafe. Like I was so high up the social ladder, and no one was holding the bottom and at any moment I would topple off. I felt like I didn't below up there with the most popular people in the school. And when I got into Glee, I felt like I belonged. But I found out it was a lot scarier to deal with people you want to be like than people who think they're like you. And I wanted to be like the glee kids.

And now that we're graduating next week, I'm scared again. I don't want to leave it behind. I have no idea what I'm going to do now that I'm singing. Football scholarships are still open, but for some reason that's not what I want to do with my life. And even though I'm confused and scared and falling apart like a toddler, I'm happy with what I've done with my life. And you're to thank, Mr. Schue.

So… yeah.

From Finn.


	54. February 23, Quinn's Letter

**A/N: So I took a look at my story stats for the first time today (I didn't even know you could DO that) and realised that apparently my story has had 1.87K hits.**

… **HOLY CHIZZ! Is that even a number? I've had that many hits? Obviously reviews are nowhere near that high, but still, it's my most popular story so far I think… Wow. Thank you guys!**

**Another letter for today. Enjoy!**

_**February 23**__**rd**__**, 2010 – Quinn's Letter**_

Dear ,

I spent a lot more of my life making fun of you than I did caring for you, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry if I said something that made fun of you, because most of the time I didn't even mean it. I wanted to be the mean head Cheerio so bad, it just sort of happened one day.

And then somehow I convinced myself I needed to be in Glee. To save Finn from Rachel.

Turns out Finn really needed saving from me all along. Funny how things turn out, huh?

Speaking of how things turn out, I'll make sure you get to see Beth. She loves you like a granddaddy, Mr. Schue, and it's hard to think that my little girl may have been yours in a different life. Sorry, didn't mean to tug any heartstrings there.

But back to Glee. We really had something great Mr. Schue. Something a lot of other kids didn't. I don't know exactly what it was, but it makes you feel safer and warmer than anything else in this cow town, slam dunk in the middle-of-nowhere, in Ohio. They'll never realize how great it was for us to have you. Or if they do, it'll be to late.

You helped 13 very different teenagers turn their lives around, Mr. Schue. Even me. It's only a couple of hours to the nearest big city, so I can take care of Beth _and_ have a future.

And I needed you to teach me that.

Thank you.

Quinn Fabray


	55. February 24, Puck's Letter

**A/N: No real need to an AN right now…. Still looking for chapter ideas or a beta reader, if anyone is still reading these… :p**

**Enjoy!**

_**Febuary 24**__**th**__**, 2010 – Puck's Letter**_

Schuester,

Glee is different. Not in the loser, faggy, throw-slushies-in-your-face kind of way I used to think it was. Now it's sort of cool. You helped us to be like rock stars, and not care what those other people think. Way to man up, Mr. Schue.

Sometimes I think if I had to choose a hero it would have to be you. Dad wasn't always around, and the only guys I know are my own age or married to the women I'm sleeping with, so you came up as my father-figure. Those are meant to be important, right?

I think I'm screwing this up.

Thanks for watching over us, I guess. Thanks for getting me chicks with my wicked pipes (_lots _of chicks, too…) and thanks for just being an awesome dude.

(Can you sign that form saying I was in Glee and not out of school selling school bikes during school hours? Thanks, man.)

Puck


	56. February 25, Tina's Letter

**A/N: I want to thank kasplosion for offering to be my beta reader – and for just being epic – and I hope you all enjoy this next chapter (I counted, I'm just under 4 months behind! ARGH!)**

_**Febuary 25**__**th**__**, 2010 – Tina's Letter**_

Dear Mr. Schue,

Looking back now, I know you did so much for us over our time at McKinley. Although I'm painfully shy, and obsessed with death, I think you showed that side of me I don't get to show often – my sassy, out-there side. It's a side of me I hopefully won't forget.

There are so many things I want to thank you for. For letting me sing True Colors, and Bad Romance. For helping me get my Lady Demon clothes back. For keeping all of us together, even when I just wanted to fall apart and forget about Glee all together.

Leaving all of this behind scares me, because I don't know what I'm going to do, or where I'm going to go. I don't think anyone does, really… except Rachel. She's always had this big idea of where's she wants to be.

But still, thanks for everything. You're definitely the best teacher I've ever had.

By the way, do you know how awkward it is trying to buy several boxes of various sized plastic bubbles while you're dressed up like Gothica? It's really hard. (But so worth it.)

Tina.


	57. February 26, Artie's Letter

_**Febuary 26**__**th**__**, 2010 – Artie's Letter**_

Dear ,

I know it must have been really hard for you running a Glee club with a disabled kid. We always get looks, everywhere we go, and we were always worried about getting pity votes instead of talent votes.

I'm really happy you let me stay in Glee.

After the accident I didn't have much. I wanted to be a baseball player, but that went right out the window. I started joining accessible clubs. Like AV club. I always liked film.  
My mom always told me I had a wonderful voice. And when they let me into Glee club, is was so great being on a team again. I've realized now that without the accident I never would have joined Glee, and I never would have been friends with Mercedes, or Kurt, or Tina. I never would have had such a great experience.

What the footballers or Cheerios thought of me never mattered. It was what my friends thought of me. And when we sang Proud Mary, and everyone sort of knew what it was like, I felt like I belonged more than any other time in my life. And it's all thanks to you.

Are you getting sick of 'thank you's? I know I would be.

But thank you anyway. (haha.)

AA.


	58. February 27, Bones

**A/N: I have no idea what brought this on. I was watching Bones (one of the old episodes from season one, which for some reason is on TV) and I was thinking about how so unbelievably different Zack and Brittany are and went 'hey…. Crackfic time!'. So, yeah, enjoy if you can!**

**_February 27th, 2010 – Bones  
_**

Brittany enjoyed the simple things. Like butterflies and rainbows and cookies which were _so _addicting.

Zack, however, enjoys the complex. The growth of butterflies, the rays of light and particles of rain in a rainbow, the precision of measurement needed to make those cookies, which were still so incredibly addicting.

And the fact that these two met, wooed and started dating completely shocked everyone who knew them. Brittany was dim, but dim like a child and not like an inferior being. It wasn't her lack of understanding, it was the lack of teaching. No one took that little bit of extra time that was needed to teach Brittany the basics. Luckily, between work and reruns of Firefly, all Zack had was time.

Starting with the basics he taught her everything in his robotic, awkward way (which Brittany thought was so cute). He started with mathematics, something she grasped quickly once she learnt about calculators, and moved on to English. Pictures books molded into small novellas. Novellas molded into larger books. Alice in Wonderland was still her favorite, because for some reason she felt Alice was just as dumb as she was. But that's because Alice didn't have a Zack.

It was Brittany's strange statements that taught Zack about social interaction. Not everyone was as blatantly obvious as he was, but he learnt that a majority of the time it's because they didn't know what they were talking about. What they did know, such as this strange thing called an urban dictionary, interested him. One thing that would always be infinite, as infinite as creation. Because how can it end when new things are invented every day?

They did have points in common. Obviously Zack couldn't do a round off, and Brittany still struggled with some more complex theories, such as square roots, which had nothing to do with trees at all, but they both loved mint choc chip ice cream, macaroni and cheese, star wars and those _incredibly addicting cookies _Puck and Santana started sending every Christmas (they didn't live together, though, so they always got two packs because two is better than one).

And Brittany got smarter and Zack started to dumb it all down, and they almost reached the same level. That level of understanding that only one type of couple has.

Four years, two months and 23 after they first met Brittany and Zack got married.

There were cookies at the reception.


	59. Febraury 28, Compliments

A/N: Just because I've noticed how many times people stop just to tell you something insulting/bad. Enjoy.

_**February 28**__**th**__** , 2010 – Compliment**_

You run into a lot of these… people in life.

They're fine with leaving you to your own devices, ignoring you when you do something that makes you proud of yourself, ignoring you when you do nothing at all – but the moment you make a mistake, they have no problem pointing it out.

Emma runs into these people a lot.

"You have a stain on your shirt." A passerby called, pointing to the collar on her pristine white blouse. Gripping the fabric, Emma pulls it forward, spots the strange mark and thinks 'how did that get there?' She only ever eats non-staining foods on school days.

She stops at a park bench and searches through her clean, shiny hand bag. Her sanitary wipes leave her shirt crisp and slightly wet, but leave the stain only a blurrier, orange mess. Emma sighed, tried her hardest to ignore the glaringly bright stain and the gazes it attracted, and briskly walked home.

Why does no one ever stop to compliment you? There's never a 'hey, you're looking nice today'.

And Emma gets the tiniest little bit mad. Nowhere near as mad as she was at Figgins after Regional's last year, but still mad. And she decides to make a difference.

The next morning she passes the same bench, in the same park she goes through every day. There was a woman sitting on it, playing with a quiet baby in a stroller. She grinned and straightened her cardigan before approaching the woman.

"I just wanted to tell you, you look lovely today." Emma said clearly. She held her grin, even when the woman raised a brow critically at her.

"Uh… why?" The woman asked. The baby cooed from it's little space.

"Because it's true." Emma states, "And because there really needs to be less criticism and more compliments out there." Nodding her head, Emma leaves the woman and her baby, grinning and nodding at each person she passes and feeling a little bit better about herself every time someone smiles and nods back.

You run into a lot of those people too.


	60. March 1, Pirouette

**A/N: Oh my Gosh. FINALLY up to March. Still a long way to go, and I never thought I'd get this far behind! But, I'm still trying. This is a little sad, but it's to prepare you for the next one, which is somewhat sadder and a little bit like a bad crime drama.**

_**March 1**__**st**__**, 2010 – Pirouette**_

Pirouette. A single step. A leap, a graceful arm extending away from her body, the rush of air over her, a figure so angelic it couldn't possibly be real. And then she sped crashing towards the floor, like a crystal glass, shattering into a million pieces. Or at least her ankle.

She was told she was lucky. She wasn't hurt too bad. A lot of others got off worse. It didn't numb the painful blow of knowing she couldn't dance for a while. But that was okay, she could always sing, right?

Her ankle didn't get better. She got anxious and fidgety, and put too much weight on it until it cracked again under her. Several times. The doctor became so used to her visits he kept her file on his desk. She wanted to get better, so, _so _badly.

And if she wasn't so god damn anxious she would have gotten better.

"You've done too much damage, dear." The elderly doctor told her, his withered hand resting on her elbow. "You'll walk again, maybe even run again. But dancing… it's out of the question, honey cake."

But it was okay. Completely. Fine. She dealt with it. Because she could sing.

Well, no, not that either. It was the Glee teacher this time.

"Face it, dear you're a dancer, not a singer. You just don't have the lungs for it." That was the best excuse she had for her lack of talent. And because she lost her dancing, and her singing was taken away like a painkiller, glee club no longer needed her. There were plenty of students who could sing and dance out there.

But, but she still had Will. And she would always have Will.

And then he was taken away from her too. Years of marriage meant nothing when he had to take care of _his kids_, _his_ glee club.  
"You need to stop this Glee club nonsense and get back to your wife. You're_ pregnant _wife." So it was a little white lie, but so what? If she couldn't have glee, he couldn't have glee. No one could. Because she deserved it, more than any of those kids and even more than Rachel Berry. Because all it takes us one bad leap to ruin a life.


	61. March 2, Dumpster

**A/N: Warning – this will be dark. Like, literally, this poor guy is in the dark most of the story. It's also depressing. Watch out for that. Still, try to enjoy. I should really stop torturing these poor characters…**

_**March 2**__**nd**__**, 2010 – Dumpster**_

Not many people knew this, or would ever bother to know it, but garbage was soft, like a pillow. A smelly, disgusting, vomit-inducing pillow.

The green light emanating from his watch shone the only light in the dark room – grave? He didn't know anymore. They threw his in and shut the door Wednesday morning, around 8am. The first morning ever the dumpster was empty enough to do so. Kurt's late dance session the night before took all the strength from his arms. He banged and yelled for a good while, but stopped when his voice cracked. It wasn't worth risking it for Glee. He even fumbled through his jeans for his phone for a while, until he realized it was in his limited edition bag, sitting outside the horrendous blue dumpster.

He spent most of the day listening. The lunch bell rang, a few people skipped some periods, one poor freshman broke his nose and got picked up by his mom. His stomach gurgled. He wasn't going to stoop so low as to eat garbage. He did have another quick attempt at forcing the dumpster lid open, however. Stuck tight.

"Hey Kurt, it's Mercedes, We're all really worried about you, so give us a call when you get this. We miss you, girl. Bye."

"Did you get him?"

"No, Artie. He didn't pick up."

'Just see my bag and come save me!' He screamed mentally, wishing they were that slightest bit closer than they could hear him feebly hit the side.

He missed dinner too, and that hurt. He was so hungry his stomach hurt. He wished he could crawl into the fetal position, but all he could do was lie flat on his back, tears stinging his eyes as they pooled there, arms flat against the garbage-pillows. Dear Versace, he was going insane.

He slept. He awoke Thursday to the same voices of those who through his in here.

"Hummel not here for his dumpster dive?" Puck asked. Backstabber.

"His fagbag is still here, man!" Azimio this time. A bang on the lid.

"You in there, Hummel?"

"Help me!" He croaked. He was worried they hadn't heard him. But they did, and it was probably worse. "He's still in there!" They laughed. Cruelly.

"Don't worry, the garbage truck will come and get you on Friday!" The laughter faded as they headed off to class. Kurt worried they had taken his bag and done something terrible with it.  
He really liked that bag.

As the day went on he still refused to eat. He was Kurt freakin' Hummel, not some Neanderthal. He made that very clear. But he was also made very weak. Weaker than before. He didn't even have the energy to cry anymore. He sat with his eyes closed, slipping in and out of lucidity, feeling numb all over. Barely moved. Barely breathed. It wasn't worth the lungful of foul air.

Another night passed. Another sun rose. But this time the light came in. Flooding his grave – dumpster. It was a dumpster. The light was so bright it stung his eyes, burnt them. He scrunched his eyes shut. His lungs cried as he got the first breath of clean air in two days. But he didn't move. Didn't talk.

"Whoa, kid, what you doin' in there?" A gruff voice asked.

"Isn't that Burt's kid? The missing one?" A second voice. This one was softer and younger.

"This where you been, boy? The gruff voice asked again. Kurt stared blankly. His chapped lips moved but no sound emerged. His eyes rolled back into his head as two sets of strong arms reached for him.

He was in the hospital two days. It was white, and bright. There was always so much noise, so many people. It smelled clean. He'd spent so long smelling nothing but pencil sharpening and leftover lunches that the clean, antiseptic smell burnt his nose. He got whatever food he wanted, even the rare case he asked for the grease fest of pizza. And he was allowed to practice with the glee club from his room, where the patient on the other side of the curtain would clap and cheer them on.

He was in the newspaper too. There was his school photo (the undefiled version) and a small article on how he was trapped in the dumpster 46 hours, 8am Wednesday to 6am Friday. There was also a search for who trapped him there. Kurt told them what he knew, and they got community service. He got a cane to help him walk around the first few days, but he didn't need it by Tuesday morning. His life went back to normal.

Except for every night when he closes his eyes and sees nothing and hears nothing and feels soft-but-smelly garbage pillows. Which really aren't that bad, you know.


	62. March 3, Gummi Bears

**A/N: This actually spawned from a childhood memory. My brother was telling me he had a nightmare about the gummi bears when he was little, and I brought it up as an embarrassing story recently and no one remembered the show. I looked in up on ****YouTube and posted it on Facebook. Everyone thinks I'm a total goob now. Anyway, enjoy some light-hearted fun!**

**March 3****rd****, 2010 – Gummi Bears**

"I had the weirdest nightmare last night, dude." Mike said, skipping right over hello and straight into conversation as he slid between Matt and Brittany on the short brick wall outside of school.

"What happened? Godzilla?" Matt joked. He raised his arms and roared in a fake way.

"That's stupid." Brittany said. From behind her, Santana rolled her eyes.

"No. I was in this forest, and it was all cartoon and stuff, and then this giant gummi bear in a cape starts chasing me. Like, Godzilla sized bear!" Mike said dramatically, arms waving frantically to show the size of the nightmare bear.

"So you had a nightmare about a fifty foot piece of candy? How is that a nightmare?" asked Matt.

"No, you remember that cartoon? Adventures of the Gummi bears?" Matt and Santana shared a look.

"No one remembers that."

"I like the red gummi bears best." Brittany added spontaneously.

"Oh, come on, you have to remember it!" The bell rang suddenly, and the group moved into the hallway towards their first class. Matt shrugged.

"I don't remember… I think I'd know about any fifty foot bear cartoons."

"They weren't that tall. They were just random coloured bears that bounced around thanks to gummiberry juice." Several juniors turned and gave Mike a look.

"You look like a total retard." Santana remarked. Brittany nodded. Mike wasn't even sure she was paying attention.

"Yeah, and you have nightmares about gummi bears." Added Matt.

"Shut up! It's real!" cried the Asian boy.

Less than a week later they were looking at old cartoons in their English class, watching a video of classic cartoon openings.

"Dashing and daring, courageous and caring,

faithful and friendly with stories to share…"

"Oh my God, I totally told you guys!"

"Doesn't change the fact you have the most wimpy ass nightmares!"

"Argh!"


End file.
